The Lady of The Rings
by eena-angel2001
Summary: CHAPTER 13 UP! Willow discovers her real destiny . . . *WIP*-MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TWO TOWERS
1. Chapter One

Title: The Lady of the Rings  
  
Author: eena_angel2001  
  
Email: igrewal@sfu.ca mailto:igrewal@sfu.ca or eena_angel@hotmail.com mailto:eena_angel@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: R  
  
Category: BTVS/LOTR crossover  
  
Pairing: Willow/Other: Willow/Legolas  
  
Spoilers: Wrecked for BTVS, LOTR movie  
  
Summary: crossover between Buffy and Lord of the Rings movie  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to any of the characters. Joss Whedon owns BTVS, Tolkien owns LOTR  
  
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,  
  
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,  
  
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,  
  
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne  
  
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.  
  
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,  
  
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them  
  
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.  
  
(Excerpt from the book of the Lost Angel)  
  
The Shadows will menace until the arrival of the Lady Firelight  
  
A warrior sorceress too brilliant to defy,  
  
Brought to set all things right,  
  
Even in the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie,  
  
A timeless beauty too strong to fight.  
  
One Lady to aid them, One Lady to guide them,  
  
One Lady to save them and from the darkness free them  
  
To bear to Middle Earth a lasting peace and light.  
  
Chapter One  
  
Willow tossed and turned, wrenching the bed sheets into an intricate puzzle around her. Sweat beads formed on her forehead. To Dawn it seemed like the redhead was in some form of inner combat with herself. Not that it was something new; Willow had been in an inner conflict since "it" happened.  
  
Dawn sighed and turned towards the staircase. That night had shattered her faith in Willow. Not in the forever, "I'll never trust you again" kind of way. But in the "Willow is not perfect, even she will make mistakes" kind of way. It was strange to think about, not to mention scary.  
  
After Buffy died, Willow had been her rock. She had taken care of everything, taken care of everyone- even Spike. Willow thought no one knew that she visited the vampire in his crypt every night during the summer. Dawn knew, she knew Willow was a caring person who couldn't stand by while another silently despaired. Willow was never selfish, until the whole thing with Rack.  
  
Dawn shuddered. The look on Willow's face that night had scared her down to her core. And it made her angry. Not angry at Willow, not angry at Buffy, but angry with herself. How could she have not noticed? Willow was drowning in her magic and Dawn had been clueless. After all the time Willow spent taking care of her, looking out for her, being her family when there was no one else left, Dawn thought she should have noticed. She should have taken care of Willow, but she didn't and Willow fell.  
  
Dawn shook her head. Too many sad thoughts, she needed happy ones now. Dawn may have failed to help Willow before, but that ended now. She would care for Willow like Willow had done for her. And she would start with breakfast.  
  
*****  
  
Willow gasped and shot up in her bed. Her bed sheets were twisted around her body and she was sweating. Her mind raced with images that made no sense to her. Tall, beautiful people from different places calling out to one another, sending power out to one another. Willow felt it string between them, had felt their desperate hope behind it. The magic spread out and along the borders of something quite dark, something very evil.  
  
Willow pressed a hand to her forehead. The withdrawal from magic had left her with many sleepless nights plagued with never ending nightmares, but this was different. It was like a pulling deep within her; she wanted to rush out to those people. They needed her.  
  
Sighing, Willow extradited herself from the sheets and climbed off her bed. Not even in her sleep was she normal. No, she had to dream of strange people and magic. Strange beautiful people, at least in her opinion. The pointy ears may offend others.  
  
*****  
  
"Is it secret? Is it safe?!" implored the gray bearded man, shaking his young charge.  
  
Wordlessly the youth ploughed through his belongings and withdrew the "it" in question. An envelope bearing a simple and alluring ring.  
  
*****  
  
Willow plodded into the kitchen, taking in with alarm the utter chaos within.  
  
"Um, Dawnie," she ventured timidly. The young girl looked over from her position at the stove. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm making you breakfast, silly," replied Dawn, eyes twinkling happily. "You looked kind of tired in your bed so I decided to whip up some deliciously invigorating food."  
  
Willow smiled at the teenager. "This deliciously invigorating food wouldn't happen to be Dawnie's famous peanut butter and banana quesidilla, would it?"  
  
Dawn laughed lightly. "No, that whole experiment was bonkers. But I'm still holding to the fact that spatulas are for losers." Whistling cheerfully, the young girl turned back to her stove.  
  
Willow glanced over her shoulder and grinned. Dawn was making blueberry pancakes, Willow's favorite. She looked at the would be chef and tears began pricking her eyes. She didn't deserve such attention. She nearly killed Dawn in her magically induced state. Dawn shouldn't be making her breakfast; it should be the other way around.  
  
Just as Willow was getting ready to take over the whole process, the back door was wrenched open. A smoking blanketed individual ran inside and slammed the door shut again. Cursing profusely, Spike threw off his blanket and began shutting all the blinds in the room.  
  
Willow and Dawn exchanged amused looks. Spike's morning visits were always interesting, to say the least. Willow swore the vampire had some sort of death by fire wish. It was the only explanation for his daily suicidal visitations. Well, only reason besides his identically suicidal obsession with the Slayer.  
  
"'Ello luvs, what's the what?"  
  
Willow smirked at the British vamp settling down at the kitchen table. "You know Spike," she started amusingly, "most vampires wait for a time in the day that won't end in their spontaneous combustion to visit their friends."  
  
Dawn nodded her head in agreement. "It was what Angel did," she added.  
  
Spike scowled at the mention of his grandsire. "Like the bloody poof knows anything about being a normal vampire. He's the most abnormal vampire in existence."  
  
"Present company excluded?" Willow asked.  
  
Spike smiled his wolfish smile. "I was never normal Red."  
  
"Well Spike," Dawn said, turning back to her cooking station. "You're just in time for blueberry pancakes."  
  
Willow moved next to Dawn. "Sweetie, let me do that," Willow insisted. "You sit down and I'll have them ready in a jiffy."  
  
"Nuh uh," Dawn refused, situating herself between Willow and the food. "You spent all night have withdrawal nightmares, you sit and relax."  
  
"Withdrawal nightmares?" Spike frowned at the redhead. "I thought you said you were over those."  
  
"I am over those," Willow turned to Dawn. "What makes you think I was having withdrawal nightmares?"  
  
Dawn looked sadly over at her friend. "You kept me up all night," she whispered quietly. "You were tossing and turning, not to mention sweating and whimpering. It freaked me out. Even after I climbed into bed with you, the nightmare continued."  
  
Spike glanced over at Willow. "Red, if you're having more nightmares, it's okay to tell us. We want to help."  
  
Willow looked between the two, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't deserve such good friends. She smiled sadly at them.  
  
"You guys shouldn't worry. It wasn't the withdrawal, it was just a regular nightmare," she frowned slightly at that. "Actually, it wasn't a regular nightmare. I'm not quite sure it even qualifies as a nightmare. It was just random images floating through my mind, they made me uneasy."  
  
"What was it about?"  
  
Willow frowned again. "I'm not sure. There were these people and darkness. It was like they wanted me to stop the darkness or something," she giggled uneasily at that remark. "Me save them? Yeah right, Buffy's the saver. I'm just the saver's assistant."  
  
The three of them laughed over the last comment. Dawn turned happily back to the stove, after shooing Willow away from the breakfast. Willow settled down next to Spike, absently shaking her head, a light smile on her face. Spike grinned knowingly and winked at Willow. It was a "Don't worry, we're all a bit strange" wink. He cast a quick glance over the room.  
  
"So, when's the Slayer getting up?"  
  
*****  
  
"Get off the road!"  
  
At that cry, the four youngsters clamored off the path, concealing themselves in the trunk of a fallen tree. They murmured quietly amongst themselves, but stilled when they heard the approaching horse.  
  
One dared to look up. Through the cracks in the wood, he saw the black horse and the steeled boot of the rider. A chill went through him. The rider was after him, and he was stuck right under its nose.  
  
*****  
  
"So, when's the Slayer gonna be back?"  
  
Willow and Dawn groaned simultaneously. Spike had spent the entire day waiting for Buffy's return. He had accompanied them to the grocery store (in the middle of the afternoon mind you. The cashier nearly had a heart attack when Spike came smoking in).  
  
He followed them to the movie store and to the pizza parlor. He stayed in front of the television with them while they went through movie after movie after movie. All the while asking questions about Buffy.  
  
"Spike," Willow growled threateningly. "I like you and I think this crush you have on Buffy is way adorable, but if you ask one more question about her, I am going to stake to you."  
  
"That goes double for me," Xander added, walking into the room with Anya at his side.  
  
Dawn brightened at the sight of the new arrivals. "What brings you guys over?"  
  
"Well, Willow told me about the vast amount of movies you rented so figured we would come over and watch them. Especially since you already paid for them and we will have to expend no money for the entertainment," Anya stated matter-of-factly.  
  
Xander grimaced at his soon to be wife. "Anh, next time just say we felt like visiting some friends."  
  
Anya frowned. "But that would be lying. I really wanted to have orgasms, but you're always so tired after work. I figured a movie marathon would give you time to recover your strength so we could then-"  
  
"Don't say it!" Willow hastily interrupted. "Don't say it Anya. I don't need that visual while watching movies."  
  
Anya shrugged and plopped down beside Spike. An embarrassed Xander settled down next to her, his face red from her comments.  
  
"So," he started. "How's goes everything at the casa de Slayer?"  
  
"Can't complain," Willow answered. "And as for your real question, I am fine. Magic free for 45 days and counting."  
  
Xander blushed. "I just worry Wills," he muttered.  
  
"I know," she sighed. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway averted everyone's attention. Spike jumped up nervously.  
  
"So, the Slayer's finally home," he babbled.  
  
Willow looked at him in mirth. He looked like an anxious fifteen- year-old boy awaiting the arrival of the prettiest girl in school. He looked like Jesse use to, right before Cordelia entered a room.  
  
Dawn started to rise when she became overwhelmed by dizziness. Something wasn't right.  
  
"Willow?" she called out hesitantly. The redhead turned around and stared. Dawn was glowing, she was glowing a strange blue color.  
  
"Guys!" Willow shrieked. The others turned to face Dawn, stopping in their tracks.  
  
The key had been activated.  
  
****  
  
Willow was becoming frantic. Anya raced outside to get Buffy. Xander and Spike were moving Dawn to lie on the couch. Willow turned to the living room table, reaching for the research books lying on it.  
  
Then she felt it. The pull, the one from her dream. Only it wasn't mental, it was physical.  
  
She turned to her friends. Buffy and Anya had come back in, Buffy hysterical over her sister.  
  
"GUYS!" Willow screamed again. Everyone snapped their heads her way. Spike started moving to her.  
  
Willow tried to move towards him, but the pull wrenched her away. She flew backwards a few feet. The room quieted. Willow turned pleading eyes on her friends. Spike moved forward again and again Willow was thrown back.  
  
"Willow!" Came the scream from Dawn. The blue glow was leaving her; it was rushing towards the redhead. It gathered behind her, forming a swirling blue hole.  
  
Time stopped. Willow faced the hole and knew, it was here for her. She turned back to her friends. She saw fear etched on their faces. Spike had vamped out. Growling he charged towards his friend.  
  
Willow felt the pull ripping through her. She let out a wordless scream as she was wrenched backwards into the hole. The last thing she saw were her friends, rushing over to the hole.  
  
And then, all was black.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
Willow was aware of the falling. In her mind it lasted forever, but in reality maybe only a few minutes. The blue glow vanished and Willow fell to the ground in a heap.  
  
Ground, she was on ground. Brushing dirt away from her face, she came to the conclusion it was an outdoorsy kind of ground. Her head ached, throbbed, pulsed, and all those other words that describe shooting pains in one's head. Unfortunately for Willow, it seemed to be doing all those actions at once. Dimly she heard voices above her.  
  
"Where'd she come from?" Came the lightly accented whisper. Willow frowned into the dirt. Scottish? Irish? Both? Something European at least.  
  
"What do we do with her?" Came another whisper.  
  
"I do not know, we have other problems on top of a strange person falling out of the sky."  
  
"Look at that hair, never seen a color like that before. Not on a mortal head, anyways."  
  
"You think she's an Elf?"  
  
"Nah, her ears are normal enough. This here is a Woman."  
  
"Mister Frodo, don't you think we should be moving along. No offense to the young lass, but we do have the black riders to worry about."  
  
"Sam's right. We must get to Buckleberry Ferry, and soon. But we can't just leave her here. What if the black riders do come? What if they harm her? I wouldn't be able to live knowing that Sam."  
  
"Then wake her up and bring her along. Come Pippin, help me with the lady."  
  
Willow heard shuffling noises. She looked ahead and saw four pairs of big hairy feet, two of which were moving slowly towards her. Willow looked up and saw the most astonishing thing she had ever seen. And since she's lived on the Hellmouth her entire life that was saying a lot.  
  
The big hairy feet were attached to small bodies. They couldn't have been more than 3 ft tall. They had small pug like bodies and heads full of curly mops of hair.  
  
Willow had always prided herself on being a rational being. So she did the most rational thing she could think of. She freaked.  
  
"Whoa! Whoa!" She cried, crab walking backwards from the approaching . . . Whatever-they-weres. Her back hit a tree and she continued moving until she was upright.  
  
"Little midgets with big feet who speak with European accents," she stated hysterically. "I must be dreaming again."  
  
The four creatures looked at her quizzically. They were really adorable, but their presence was just not calming Willow in any aspect.  
  
"Yup, must be dreaming," she repeated frantically. "Dreams are full of unexplainable things, non rational things. The subconscious is a tricky thing, pulling images out of left field. Of course, if you listen to Freud, the so-called expert on subconscious, he'd say that this is significant. So you gotta wonder what my subconscious is telling me with four munchkins with big hairy feet. And I can assure you it is not my biological clock because I just turned 21."  
  
The four creatures stared at her in wonderment. Willow ignored them and continued on with her babble.  
  
"Of course, who's to say Freud had all the answers. It's just like Spike always says: 'It's not an internal urge so much as being fucked up in the head'. And Spike's lived longer than Freud, so he has the advantage of experience. Of course there is always Angel who is a good 125 years older than Spike. He'd probably say it's just because of the stress from withdrawal. Yeah, that's it! I'm stressed from the tensions of withdrawal. It's making me dream the funky," Willow spat out, running out of breath.  
  
The four creatures still stared. Willow stared back. It might have continued on this way if it hadn't been for that weird guy dressed in black jumping into the fray with his possibly psychotic horse.  
  
The four little ones panicked and fled. Willow watched them run off into the night, before realizing only three had done so. She turned back to the rider. He had cut off one of the little ones and was trying to corner him.  
  
"Mister Frodo, come on!" Came the cry from the others. Willow looked up at the rider and in an instant knew. This guy was bad, and he was going to hurt the midgets. Squaring her shoulders, Willow did the only thing she could think of.  
  
She grabbed the reins of the horse and then deftly punched the horse in the mouth. The animal wailed and spun around frantically.  
  
Wasting no time, Willow grabbed the remaining midget and took off in the direction his friends had gone. She heard the rider recover and take up the chase. She ran faster. Soon, a small dock came into view. The other midgets had climbed onto a raft and were slowly separating themselves from the dock.  
  
"Hurry! Hurry!" They cried.  
  
Willow scaled the fence before the dock in a single leap. Thank God Spike thought it necessary for her to train like the Slayer.  
  
She sped down the dock and then jumped. Her, her midget, and another midget were knocked onto the floor of the raft. Willow dared a glance back. The black rider had stopped at the edge of the dock. He turned around and galloped away; joining two others just like him.  
  
"How long to the nearest crossing?" Asked her midget.  
  
"Brandywine Bridge," replied one of the rowing midgets. "Twenty miles."  
  
"Twenty miles, eh?" Willow repeated. The midgets looked over at her. "That should be enough time for you guys to explain exactly what is going on."  
  
*****  
  
The five odd companions huddled in the dark of the trees. Frodo, the mid- no the hobbit with the dark hair, stared across the street. There a looming wooden gate separated them from the town of Bree.  
  
"Come on," he whispered urgently. The group trotted across the road. Willow wrapped the cloaked loaned to her tightly around herself. It only came down to mid-thigh, but it was better than nothing. She and the hobbits agreed having her roam around in her green leather pants and light green tank top would have brought about unwanted attention. Well, more unwanted attention, considering they would be getting some. Four hobbits and one human girl together as a group is more than likely to turn a few heads.  
  
Frodo knocked on the wooden door. There was some shuffling, two peepholes opened in succession.  
  
"What do you want?" Came a gruff, squeaky kind of voice.  
  
"We've come to stay at the Prancing Pony Inn," Frodo replied.  
  
The door swung open and an old looking man with wet, stringy gray hair stood before them.  
  
"Four hobbits and a mortal girl," he exclaimed. "What business have you in the town of Bree."  
  
"We're making for the inn," Willow replied evenly. She gave the man her best resolve face. "Our business is our business."  
  
The guard moved aside and ushered them in, all the while apologizing. "I meant no offence lass, it's me job to ask questions. There's talk of strange folk running around these parts."  
  
Willow nodded absently at him and followed the hobbits into the city. This whole place was full of strange folk, at least to Willow. During the raft ride down the river, the hobbits had told her much about this place Middle Earth. Middle Earth. Middle of what exactly?  
  
Willow shook the thoughts out of her head. No use mind babbling on it. She had related much of her story to the hobbits, much more than what Frodo had told her. Willow knew he and Sam were keeping a secret, she just didn't know what. She didn't push it, not like she told them about her last joyride into the black arts. No, secrets were fine. No harm done by them and Willow really needed the hobbits. She was in a strange and foreign place, most likely a parallel universe. She needed all the help she could get. And help is what the hobbits promised her.  
  
"Gandalf will help you," Frodo had ascertained. "He knows lots of magic, he'll help you."  
  
So here she was, in Bree, heading to the Prancing Pony Inn with four hobbits and about to meet a gray bearded wizard. Yup, Willow was one lucky girl.  
  
She felt a tugging on her sleeve. She looked down at Pippin Took. He motioned towards a large hanging sign. The Prancing Pony Inn. She smiled down at him, took his hand and walked towards the entrance. Maybe she could be home within the hour. Yeah right.  
  
Inside Frodo was speaking with the barkeep. "Gandalf, yes I remember him," the barkeep was saying. "Gray beard, pointy hat. Haven't seen him in six months."  
  
Frodo turned confused and scared eyes on the rest of his group. Willow frowned. No magical wizard, this was not good.  
  
*****  
  
They were seated at a table, their rooms had yet to be prepared. The five had insisted on Willow rooming with them. It raised a few eyebrows, but they didn't care. They had no Gandalf and would be damned if they got separated at the Inn.  
  
And so they ate. They really really ate. Willow was astounded. She had been starving when they arrived and yet the hobbits had individually consumed twice as much food as she had. It boggled her mind.  
  
Sam had noticed her wonderment and happily told her Hobbits were a food loving people. And since the barkeep kept bringing the food without a hint of astonishment, Willow decided it must be a well-known fact hobbits ate like no tomorrow. As she was trying to seem as if she fit in, she did her best to ignore the food consumed by the little ones.  
  
Instead she decided to concentrate on the strange man sitting in the dark corner on the other side of the room. He had been watching them, really watching them. Not in the "what are four hobbits and a girl doing hanging out together" way either. It was like he was appraising them.  
  
Merry came back to the table, with a huge jug of what Willow knew had to be some form of alcohol. Pippin looked over at him in shock.  
  
"What's that?" he inquired.  
  
"This my friend is a pint."  
  
Pippin looked up in earnest. "They come in pints," he squeaked disbelievingly. His face took on a determined look.  
  
"I'm getting one too," he stated, hastening away from the table.  
  
Willow smiled after him. Pippin was a hoot. However, she still had the strange man in the corner to worry about.  
  
"Frodo," she drew the young hobbits attention. "That man in the far corner has been watching us for a good half an hour."  
  
Frodo looked up concerned. He stopped the passing barkeep and inquired about the man.  
  
The barkeep looked over and turned to them with a grave face. "He's one of those Rangers. Don't know his real name, but in these parts they call him Strider." With that the barkeep moved away, as if he was trying to visibly distance himself from Strider and his quarry. Willow frowned, this was getting bad.  
  
All of a sudden, she felt power. Great, evil power. It overflowed her senses.  
  
She closed her eyes, it was dark magic. And it repulsed her. She looked up and saw Frodo, sitting with his eyes closed, as if he were listening to a far off voice.  
  
The dark magic was calling him, and he looked about ready to answer.  
  
Willow reached across the table and pinched the hobbit's nose. He gave a yelp and stared at her in confusion. Merry and Sam were staring at her too. She stayed focused on Frodo.  
  
"Whatever it is Frodo, I want you to ignore it," she instructed. The hobbit looked at her in wonder and a bit of shame. "It's not your fault it's enticing, but you need to resist it. No good can come from whatever it is."  
  
Merry looked between the two. He started to open his mouth when Pippin's voice wafted over to them.  
  
"Baggins? Of course I know a Baggins. Frodo Baggins, he's right over there. He's me cousin twice removed on his mother's side . . ." Frodo rushed over to Pippin, pulling his arm and stopping Pippin's free flowing words.  
  
In an instant all went wrong. Willow saw Frodo slip, saw his hand go up, saw the twinkling of a gold ring, saw the ring land right on Frodo's finger, and then saw Frodo vanish.  
  
The minute the ring landed on Frodo's finger, Willow felt woozy. It was like being hit with a ton of bricks.  
  
The inn was in chaos. Merry, Pippin, and Sam were frantically searching for Frodo. Willow shut and opened her eyes.  
  
Frodo she thought. I want to see Frodo.  
  
And instantly there he was. He was confused, lost, and in black and white. Willow rose to her feet.  
  
In her mind she heard a screeching wail, she knew the black riders were on their way. She had to get to Frodo.  
  
She watched as he wrenched the ring off his finger and became visible to others again. She felt a moment's relief. Then Strider grabbed Frodo by the shoulder and began propelling him up the stairs. She ran after them.  
  
Up a flight of stairs and to a door, Willow followed quietly behind the Ranger and Frodo. She knelt down to the door, ears straining to hear.  
  
" . . . That is no trinket you carry," came an unknown voice. Willow presumed it was Strider and he was in front of the door.  
  
"I know not of what you speak," Frodo replied. Willow's heart ached, he sounded scared. He also sounded far from the door.  
  
"I think you do," came Strider again. Willow looked around desperately. She needed a weapon, any weapon. Her eyes feel on a staff, resting against a far wall.  
  
That was convenient, she thought. She felt more confident with it in her hands. The staff was the one weapon Buffy had finished training her on. Spike also gave her handy tips on how to fight dirty with one. Yeah she was killer with a staff.  
  
Hearing noises on the stairs, she turned her head. She watched as the three remaining hobbits barged into the room where Strider had Frodo.  
  
"LET HIM GO OR I'LL HAVE YOU LONGSHANKS!!" Willow heard Sam threaten.  
  
"You have a stout heart for a hobbit," came Strider's amused reply. Willow waited until she heard the Ranger sheath his sword. He was still directly in front of the door. The hobbits began shying away from it. Willow saw his shadow extend into the hall. Taking a deep breath, Willow charged.  
  
Strider didn't know what hit him. In three or fours moves, Willow had the larger man stunned and on the floor. She implanted her staff into his midsection and placed her foot on his sword hilt. The Ranger looked up at her with astonished eyes, she returned his look with one of sheer malice.  
  
"Move and I'll break your neck," she informed him evenly. Strider looked over at the smiling and cheering hobbits. Then he grinned.  
  
"So, you have hired someone to protect you then?" Strider asked amusingly. Willow wasn't amused; she applied more pressure on his midsection. Strider grimaced and turned to Frodo.  
  
The young hobbit smiled and placed a hand on Willow's arm. "He's okay," Frodo stated, gently pushing the redhead off her opponent. Willow turned skeptic eyes on her companion.  
  
"He really is," Frodo insisted. "He could have killed me and taken the ring, but he didn't. And he seems to know what's going on, a bit more than me perhaps."  
  
Willow turned to stare at Strider, who was slowly picking himself up off the floor. She turned back to Frodo.  
  
"Are you sure?" Frodo nodded. Willow shrugged, propped the staff against the wall, and turned back to Strider. This time with a smile on her face.  
  
"So, what's the plan?"  
  
Strider continued to stare at her.  
  
*****  
  
Willow slept fitfully. It was horrible. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw a looming tower. At it's base was seeming chaos. It looked like someone had tried to recreate Hell. There was darkness, fire, and loud bangs. On top of the tower, Willow saw an old man sitting still, whispering to a butterfly caught in his hand. Suddenly he released it, and Willow was filled with a deep sense of relief.  
  
And then she felt them. The black riders, she felt them enter the town, enter the inn, enter a room, and heard their loud frustrated wailing. She jerked awake, upsetting the hobbits piled around her. They grumbled and moaned as alertness started to creep into their minds. Willow jumped out of bed and moved to the window.  
  
Strider followed her with his eyes until she reached his side. Then he looked out across the street. Willow followed his gaze to a window across the street. The black riders were there, and they were ripping the room to shreds with their swords.  
  
Willow swallowed hard. It was the room the barkeep had rented them.  
  
She watched wordlessly as the riders emerged from the inn, mounted their horses, and rode away. When they were out of sight, she looked at Strider, her worry etched clearly on her face.  
  
"What are they?" she heard Frodo ask. She turned back to the bed and saw the hobbits now wide-awake and scared. Willow walked back over to them and enveloped the four into one hug. She glanced at Strider over their heads. He nodded at her.  
  
"They are the nine," he started slowly. "The old kings of men, given the nine rings of power by Sauron the deceiver. Their greed consumed them and he made them slaves to his will. They are Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead and always drawn towards the ring."  
  
Willow nodded to herself. The hobbits had become quite uneasy, she wrapped her arms more tightly around them. She didn't have a clue what the ring was, and why the riders wanted it. She did know that they would kill for it. She looked over at Strider, determination in her green eyes.  
  
"They will not get any of my friends while I'm around," she promised. She looked pointedly at Strider. "When do we leave?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
They walked. For days and days they walked. They walked far away from the normal travel roads. Strider seemed to know his way around the forest quite well.  
  
Willow wasn't sure why, but she trusted him. Even though she knocked on flat on his ass the first time she met him, Willow trusted him. It was just a feeling, kind of like she knew him. Maybe not knew him, but knew his type.  
  
Tall, dark, and silent, Strider reminded her of Angel. Hell, his brooding alone could rival Angel's. It gave the whole bizarre situation an air of familiarity. His mannerisms were very Angelic.  
  
"Come on," Strider's voice broke through her thoughts. "We need to get moving. We do not have time to stop."  
  
Pippin looked up at him. "No stopping. What about breakfast?"  
  
Strider stared at him. "You just had breakfast."  
  
"What about second breakfast?" Pippin asked indignantly.  
  
Strider shook his head and disappeared behind some rocks.  
  
Merry patted Pippin on the shoulder. "I don't think he knows about second breakfast."  
  
Pippin looked alarmed. "What about 11ses, brunch, lunch, snack time, tea time, dinner, and supper? Does he know about them?"  
  
Merry shook his head. "Don't count on it." Pippin looked about ready to cry. Willow heard a rustling and saw an apple go flying through the air. Merry caught it deftly and handed it to Pippin. Another one came whizzing by seconds later and belted Pippin in the head.  
  
Yeah, Strider had a few Angel-like qualities. It made him seem so much trustworthier than he had proved to be. But then again, Willow has always been painfully partial to Angel, him having saved her life numerous times and her having restored his soul.  
  
However, the trust wasn't uniform throughout the group.  
  
Sam nudged Frodo and Willow. "Are you two sure we can trust him?"  
  
Frodo shrugged. "We have to."  
  
"But where is he leading us?" Sam needled.  
  
"To Rivendell Sam," came Strider's reply.  
  
Damn, the guy had ears like a, uh, a, well a vampire. It just added to his Angel-ness.  
  
"Rivendell, did ya hear that? We're going to see the Elves."  
  
Willow stopped dead in her tracks.  
  
"THERE ARE ELVES?!"  
  
*****  
  
They walked some more. The Elves were pretty far away. The Elves, still wrapping her mind around that one.  
  
Anyway, with the walking, Willow was sure they would be walking to the end of her days. Hell, she was pretty sure she had walked far enough that at home, she would have been in L.A. by now.  
  
Home, it made her heart hurt to think of home. In her mind's eye, all she could see was the look on Spike's face as he tried to reach her in time. The horror on Buffy's face, the blind panic on Xander's, and the pain on Dawn's. She can still hear Anya screaming in refusal, trying to deny what they all felt when the hole opened. It had come for Willow. She wasn't sure how or why, but it had come for her.  
  
"Look," Strider commanded, stopping suddenly. He pointed to the top of a nearby cliff. Willow followed his direction. A set of ruins lay on top of the cliff. "The guard tower of Amon Sul."  
  
"It's very pretty," Willow offered. "I mean, yeah all broken down but still very pretty. And the whole ruin-iness of the place kind of adds to a classical theme. Very cool. Sorry, I'm rambling again."  
  
The hobbits smiled at her. They had gotten use to her babbling, thought it was endearing. Strider was still unaccustomed to it and had difficulty understanding her use of words. He had once asked her what language she was speaking. Not in a rude way, but in a confused, trying desperately to understand way. Willow assured him she knew proper English, but almost always reverted to Willow-Speak.  
  
Willow-Speak. She smiled faintly at the thought. Her tendency to babble had existed all her life. When they were younger, Jesse and Xander had officially declared it Willow-Speak. They went as far as to say they were translators of the obscure form of English. Once, for a creative writing project, they wrote a translating dictionary. She still had a copy of it in her room. It was endearing, and covered with pictures of her, Jesse, and Xander. After Jesse's death, she had it laminated so it wouldn't get ruined.  
  
It was in her desk drawer, on top of the stationary Buffy had given her. From the desk of Willow Rosenburg, Queen of Babble. All of it was at home, the one place she so desperately wanted to be. The one place she couldn't reach, not on her own.  
  
She prayed to whatever gods were listening. Please or please, let me return home. I need my family.  
  
*****  
  
"We camp here tonight," Strider informed them. "Here " was a crevice on the cliff below the watchtower. It looked warm and comfy enough.  
  
Strider gathered them all around. He threw down a bundle, untying to reveal five sheathed swords. He handed them out one by one. "Keep them close," he instructed. "I'm going to take a look around."  
  
With that, he left. Yup, he really reminded Willow of Angel. Before the similarities had been comforting. But now, though still comforting, the resemblance was nagging at her. Like it demanded she recognize something that was right in front of her. But, for the life of her, Willow had no idea what she was supposed to know. It was there, in the corner of her mind, nudging her. It was bloody annoying.  
  
Willow grimaced. "Great, now I'm starting to sound like Spike in my mind," she muttered unhappily. She really missed the bleached blonde idiot. She really missed them all. It was enough to make her cry.  
  
Picking up on the fact that something was wrong, the hobbits gathered around their human friend, returning the comfort she had been giving throughout the whole ordeal. Willow smiled softly, tears coming down her cheeks.  
  
"I'm so lost," she whispered to them.  
  
*****  
  
Sleep wasn't getting any easier.  
  
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the tower and its prisoner. The prisoner seemed to be fine, that wasn't what was bothering her. It was what was going on at the base of the tower, in the man made trenches dug all around it. There were things toiling in those trenches. Willow had no idea what they were, but they were nastier than a chaos demon. And they were making something, a really bad something.  
  
In her mind, Willow saw it move. Whatever it was, it shot its arm out and strangled the life out of one its makers. A tall white man stood in front of it, seemingly commanding it. Willow saw it climb out of some mucus, it stood up.  
  
Well, it wasn't as nasty as the others, but as for scary. Well, Willow was pretty sure she would rather French kiss the Judge before even venturing near this thing.  
  
And what was with all the smoke?  
  
Wait a minute? Smoke?  
  
Willow wrestled with awareness, blinking her eyes rapidly. Frodo jumped up and raced to the fire the other three hobbits had built.  
  
"Put it out you fools!" he cried, stamping the fire out with his feet.  
  
Willow scrambled out of her blankets. The hobbits were peering over the edge of the crevice, but Willow didn't need to. The Ringwraiths were back, she felt them.  
  
"Get your swords," she ordered. She gathered the hobbits all together and made for the ruins of the watchtower. They fumbled onto the pavilion, Willow kept the hobbits all behind her. They came, five of them, swords drawn and intent on the ring.  
  
Willow braced herself and charged. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one wraith slip past and knock Sam out. She turned to help, but the others forcibly pushed her out of the way. Willow slammed into a column and fell in a heap.  
  
She saw Frodo fall underneath the approaching figures. He pulled out the ring and slipped it on his finger. A wave of raw power radiated from him, it made Willow ill. She hefted the sword in her hand. Buffy had taught her the basics, Spike again had taught her how to use it dirtily, but she'd feel better with a mace. Or a staff, or a crossbow. Or her magic. MAGIC. It was her only hope. She closed her eyes and willed herself to see Frodo.  
  
When she saw him, all Latin fled her brain. The leader of the wraiths raised a dagger high. Willow leapt to her feet and ran. Sword flying, limbs striking out, Willow ran to her friend. She led a few away, but they regrouped. The leader knocked her sword away. She spun into a roundhouse kick.  
  
It landed, that's the good news.  
  
The bad news, it put her into an awkward position.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another wraith raise a dagger towards Frodo. She gave up on offence; she flung herself on top of the still invisible hobbit.  
  
The dagger went into her shoulder. It was fire and ice at the same time, a blinding pain.  
  
Willow screamed.  
  
She heard sounds of a fight. She couldn't make out much, the pain was too much, but she knew. She knew Strider had arrived. At least the hobbits would be safe.  
  
The wraiths were screaming and fleeing. Strider was driving them back. She felt the last one leave the watchtower.  
  
The hobbits were in a panic. Frodo had removed the ring and wrapped his visible arms around Willow. She opened her eyes, saw his tear streaked face. There was fear there, so much fear. Fear like Dawn's, the night she had let her magic overtake her. Willow wanted to cry, she needed to cry, but that wouldn't help matters.  
  
Strider's face came into view. He looked at her wound, picked up the offending dagger. It disintegrated in his hands. Willow figured that was a bad sign.  
  
Strider was saying something, but she couldn't make it out. He picked her up and began carrying her. Her last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was how much this reminded her of the time Angel had saved her from Marcy the invisible girl. Except this time, Willow doubted she was going to make it.  
  
*****  
  
Willow wasn't aware of much. When she came back to herself, she usually heard the hobbits in hysterics. Willow wished she could comfort them. But she didn't have the hope or the energy to do so.  
  
It was funny. Willow always knew she was going to die. It was inevitable, being a mortal girl and all. She knew she would die fighting evil, and the wraiths were evil. But somehow, she always thought she would die on her own plane of existence.  
  
Images were floating around her mind. The prisoner of the tower, jumping off onto the back of a bird and being flown away.  
  
Way to go old guy.  
  
Suddenly, Willow became aware of another's presence. She turned her head. A beautiful woman rode into the clearing. She was dressed in white, but that was probably an illusion. No one rode around in the forest in white silk gowns.  
  
The woman spoke. Willow made out a little.  
  
"Hello firelight . . . My name is Arwen . . . Mustn't . . . shadows . . . Come back into the light."  
  
It was in another language. Willow didn't get it all, but she got the gist. However, she was in little position to comply. The shadows were coming closer and closer.  
  
She felt herself being lifted. She placed on a horse that much she could tell. She could make out little of what was said around her.  
  
"We must get her to my father's house . . ."  
  
" . . . She needs Elfish medicine . . . "  
  
"I want to go with her . . . It's my fault . . . I won't stay behind . . ."  
  
"There's five behind you . . . I'm the faster rider . . ."  
  
" . . . Ride hard . . ."  
  
Willow was jiggled a bit. Someone was placed in front of her. A hobbit, probably Frodo. He had a huge guilt complex concerning her wound. Another behind her, it wasn't Strider. She felt that much, it was the woman, Arwen. Dimly, Willow began to wonder how she came to "feel" Strider. It made no sense, like her compulsive comparison between him and Angel.  
  
Willow heard Arwen whisper to her horse. She was filling it with magic; Willow felt it flow from the woman to the beast. And they took off.  
  
*****  
  
They were being chased, she could tell that much. The riders had come up from behind them. She felt them, they wanted the ring and they wanted her. The ring she could understand, but what was this obsession with her? It made her head hurt, and that was a welcome change from the hurt in her shoulder.  
  
She heard Frodo's voice, he was panicked. The poor darling. He was petrified. She turned her head, she saw a wraith. It extended a steeled hand towards her, she snarled at it.  
  
Arwen's magic was flowing through the horse, but it wasn't enough. Willow was prepared to die; she wasn't prepared to have her two companions follow her into death.  
  
She placed a hand on the horse's neck. Willow focused on her magic, that energy deep within her. She had been trying to stop doing spells, and this technically wasn't a spell.  
  
She fed the horse her magic. Sent her energy into the beast, and it worked. The horse quickened its speed. Willow became aware of water splashing at its feet. They jerked to a halt. Arwen drew her sword and faced the wraiths.  
  
" . . . Give . . ."  
  
" . . . want them, come and claim them."  
  
Willow didn't like the sound of that. She felt Arwen draw her power, but it was weakened from feeding the horse. Willow grabbed the woman's hand and fed her magic through her.  
  
It was enough.  
  
The water's roar became loader. Willow lifted her head. She saw the wraiths being swept away by a tidal wave, water taking the form of raging steeds.  
  
It was interesting.  
  
Willow felt herself grow weak. Frodo began to panic once more. Honestly, that boy wasn't going to live a long life until he gets those nerves of his under control.  
  
She was lifted off the horse and embraced. She felt the comfort of Frodo and the prayers of Arwen.  
  
". . . please Willow . . . Don't go, we're almost there. Just . . ."  
  
Willow began to gasp rapidly.  
  
" . . . Whatever grace is in me, let it pass onto her . . ."  
  
And then there was black.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
Willow was floating, again. She was getting kind of tired of it. Wasn't there any other faux sensation out there that would suffice? Why was it always floating?  
  
It was pure white and she was floating in it. A face came into view. It was familiar, one of the faces from her original dream. The one she had at home before the hole sucked her in. The face mumbled in the same language as Arwen was taken to speaking. Willow was surprised that she still understood it. It was a healing spell.  
  
The face disappeared and she was still floating.  
  
"Where am I? What's going on?"  
  
"You are in the house of Elrond," came the answer from an unknown voice. "And it is ten o'clock in the morning, on October the 24th, if you want to know."  
  
"October 24th?" Willow repeated. "But it was early February when I was sucked into the hole. Either I've been asleep a long while, or this isn't a parallel universe. Cause if it was a parallel universe, we would be on the same time frame. But as it seems not to be the case, I guess I'm up shit creek without a paddle."  
  
A rumbling laughter responded to her babbling.  
  
Willow opened her eyes, one at a time. She looked up at a white ceiling. She was in a bed with white sheets and dressed in a white night gown. Willow was beginning to detect a pattern.  
  
She looked for the source of the voice. It was an old man dressed all in gray. He had long gray hair and a long gray beard. This place was very mono-toned.  
  
There was an intricately designed staff leaning against his chair. The man himself was smoking a pipe, but the smoke smelled suspiciously of something other than tobacco. But who was she to judge? And he looked really familiar.  
  
"You're the tower prisoner guy!" she blurted out.  
  
The man looked taken back, and then relaxed. "Yes, that was I. I'm supposing you're the presence I felt during my confinement."  
  
Willow shrugged. It was entirely possible. How, she wasn't so sure. A lot of things in this place made of the non-sense. Like her feeling the presence of the ring . . .and the Ringwraiths . . .and Strider. Okay, nothing made sense in this place, foremost being what she was doing here.  
  
Well, okay. Right now the foremost thing of nonsense was how she was still alive. Willow had felt herself slip from this world. She looked at her shoulder. The wound had healed, leaving behind a faint scar on her shoulder blade. She looked to the old man for answers.  
  
"You are very lucky," he motioned towards her shoulder. "A few more hours and you would have been beyond our aid. But you are a strangely strong lass."  
  
"That I am," Willow nodded. Her brow wrinkled into a frown. "And who are you?"  
  
The man shook his head lightly. "Oh my, forgetting my manners in my old age," he smiled kindly at her. "Lady Willow, it is my most supreme honor to you. I am Gandalf the Gray."  
  
Willow's eyes widened. "You're Gandalf?" He nodded. "Well, hotdog am I glad to meet you. Do you know how to get me home?"  
  
His face fell. "No, no. I'm sorry," he spoke sadly. "There is no way for me to help you home."  
  
Willow felt lost. Her head swam, her eyes blurred. She had been counting on Gandalf getting her home. Rationally, she knew there might still be a way. People stronger than Gandalf who could get her home. She knew it, but in her heart, all hope fled from her.  
  
Then there was a loud bang and heavy footfalls.  
  
"You're awake!" Screeching unintelligibly, Sam and Frodo bounded onto her bed. Frodo wrapped his arms around her neck; Sam had her hand in a death grip. Both looked happy beyond words. Despite her disappointment, Willow felt their happiness to be infectious. She may be stuck, but she was alive. And she had her hobbits.  
  
"Hi guys, how are you doin'?"  
  
"How are we?" Frodo repeated incredulously. "You're the one with the near fatal wound, and you want to know how we are."  
  
"I don't think Miss Willow is capable of thinking any selfish thoughts Mr. Frodo," Sam offered happily from the bedside. Willow hung her head. If only they knew.  
  
"The hobbits have rarely left your side the entire time," Gandalf stated.  
  
Sam nodded his head. "We were so worried. Strider too, he was in here a lot. I don't know if you remember, but you were not exactly yourself. We had to set Strider up in a cot in the corner of the room. You were quite hysterical at points. You kept claiming Strider was some sort of angel and cried profusely when he left your side."  
  
Willow felt her entire face go red. "I did what?" she squeaked.  
  
Frodo patted her arm reassuringly. "It was only for the first two days. After that you were soundly asleep, but you mumbled strange things in your sleep. Something about the dawn, Buffy, Anya, Xander, Giles, even a Tara, and you kept demanding to have a spike. By the way, what is an Oz- muttboy?"  
  
Willow wanted to crawl under the sheets and die. She never talked in her sleep; lord knows what these people heard.  
  
Gandalf smiled at her kindly. "Do not fret needlessly lass. You were quite ill, you hadn't a clear mind. Elrond found it difficult, but he was able to restore you to complete health." Another man appeared at Gandalf's side. Willow's eyes widened again.  
  
The man from her dream!  
  
"YOU!" she shrieked. Frodo and Sam looked alarmed.  
  
Gandalf smiled sadly and the new arrival nodded, affirming her suspicions. He was tall, regal looking. Long brown hair braided down his back. And two very pointed ears.  
  
"Welcome to Rivendell, Lady Firelight," the man greeted her. "I am Elrond and you are safe in my house."  
  
Willow wanted answers, and she wanted them now. However, Pippin and Merry entered the room and nothing more was said on the topic.  
  
*****  
  
Willow entered the library quietly and determinedly. Elrond and Gandalf were awaiting her. She slipped into the chair opposite the two and waited.  
  
Her fingers wrapped around the cuffs of the loaned dress she was wearing. Apparently her own clothes had been taken away to be cleaned while she was healing. Not knowing how to handle the material, the maids had shrunk her pants and dyed her shirt. So Arwen had lent her a closet full of white dresses while the palace seamstresses frantically tried to replace her clothes. That was interesting in itself. Had she been in a better mood, Willow would have been joking and snickering at the turn of events.  
  
But humour had left her; she knew she wasn't likely to return home. And she wanted to know why.  
  
Willow turned to Elrond, her resolve face firmly in place.  
  
"Explain" came the one word command.  
  
Gandalf shifted uncomfortably at her words, Elrond meet her eyes steadily.  
  
"Middle Earth was once just Earth," Elrond began. "The mortal race of man ruled here. And they fought each other horribly. They acknowledged not the existence of any other beings. They thought themselves superior above all else. They desired to be superior amongst themselves. They fought over religion, race, land, ideals, and any other reason they could think of. Men built vast machines of destruction; they filled the world with machines and technology. And they ignored the darkness underneath them. Demons and devils, all intent of wrenching the world from the hands of men.  
  
A few existed to fight this darkness. From one such was born the Savior. He closed the gates to Hell and made the world stable. He welcomed the other creatures men before had loved to ignore. The Elves, the dwarves, the hobbits, and many others. We established Middle Earth, and for many years there was peace.  
  
Until Sauron came, he brought darkness to Middle Earth. The ring of power, which Frodo bears, was his weapon. He instilled in it his evil, his will dominate all others. The ring's power enabled him to trap the people of Middle Earth under his spell. Only by chance was he defeated. Isildur, descendant of the Savior, cut it off from the hand of the Dark Lord with the shards of his fallen father's sword."  
  
Elrond paused and closed his eyes shut in remorse.  
  
"It should have ended that day. But the ring was too powerful, it trapped Isildur. He carried it on him, until a fateful day when Orcs attacked his traveling party. The ring slipped from his fingers, and Isildur died.  
  
The ring was lost for 2500 years until Gollum found it. The creature kept the ring on his person for 500 years until it fell into the hands of the hobbit Bilbo Baggins. He kept it for 60 years in the Shire, until now."  
  
Willow nodded. "Okay, now explain me."  
  
Elrond shut his eyes briefly. "The Savior, on his death, gave his friends the Elves a book. The Book of the Lost Angel. He instructed them to take care of it, preserve it through magic. The book held a prophecy, the coming of the Lady Firelight.  
  
In the time of the second darkness, the Lady would be called to save the people of Middle Earth. When we heard of the ring's awakening and the regrouping of Sauron's power in Mordor, we knew the time of the second darkness had come. All the signs pointed to it.  
  
So we opened the book. Inside was a spell. It required the power of all the Elf Lords of Middle Earth. We grouped and sent out the call for the Lady," his eyes turned to Willow. "You answered that call."  
  
Willow stiffened. Elrond continued. "The Savior left instructions for the Elf Lords. All we needed to know was in the first hundred pages. The rest is for the Lady," he handed Willow a thick book. "It will answer your questions."  
  
Willow looked at them in disbelief. "How do you know I'm the right girl? You could have made a big mistake."  
  
Elrond shook his head. "You are the one," he gestured to the book. "Open it."  
  
Willow glanced down at the book in her hands. It was enormous and leather bound. Just like all of Giles' books. Hands shaking, she opened the first page.  
  
The Book of the Lost Angel  
  
Numerous blank pages followed the title page. She looked up at Elrond.  
  
"Once we did the spell, all the words fled from the pages," Elrond explained.  
  
"Oh," she turned back to it. She skipped ahead until she found writing.  
  
The top of the page blazoned the title: The Lost Angel. Underneath was a charcoal drawing of Willow. She turned back to Elrond and he nodded.  
  
"We were shown what to look for."  
  
"And there's no go home spell," she realized. Gandalf shook his head.  
  
No way home. She couldn't go home. She wouldn't be with her friends anymore. She was here until the end of her days. Willow was stuck.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
Willow stared down at the book in her hands.  
  
Elrond had informed her the book was hers from now on. They invited her to stay in the library to read it. She refused and ran out. She made her way through the palace, never stopping once.  
  
Eventually, she became tired and rested. She was in some strange hall with gigantic murals on the walls. One was a painting of what had to be Isildur cutting the ring from the hand of Sauron. Right across from it was a statue and a pedestal. On it was the broken parts of a sword. Willow looked from it to the painting. She had a pretty good guess at what it was.  
  
There was also a bench off in the corner. Willow flopped down, miserable. She should have just brooded, but her curiosity got the better of her.  
  
She opened to the page of her portrait. It looked familiar, she didn't know how, but it was. Shaking her head, she turned the page.  
  
The Shadow will menace until the arrival of the Lady Firelight  
  
A warrior sorceress too brilliant to defy,  
  
Brought to set all things right,  
  
Even in the Land of Mordor, where the Shadows lie,  
  
A timeless beauty too strong to fight.  
  
One Lady to aid them, One Lady to guide them,  
  
One Lady to save them and from the darkness free them  
  
To bear to Middle Earth a lasting peace and light.  
  
William T. B. A. P. Exeter  
  
Willow's world fell around her. It wasn't the passage so much as the author.  
  
William T. B. A. P. Exeter.  
  
William The Bloody Awful Poet Exeter.  
  
Spike. Spike had written in this book!  
  
Frantically Willow turned the page, and there it was.  
  
Dearest Willow,  
  
Gods how we have all missed you. I can't even describe the day I heard the news. It seemed so irrational, the way Buffy called our office in the middle of the night, crying and hysterical. Spike eventually had to take the phone from her and explained. It didn't seem real, Willow was gone. No one ever thought it possible.  
  
The day you disappeared was one of the worst in our lives. Plenty more of those came in the years to come. Everyone came together, everyone who loves you. And we searched. We searched long and hard. We searched for three long years.  
  
Then we found you, perfectly safe and sad around the edges. We reached out for you, but no one could get to you. You were out of our reach forever. We all cried that day. I thought Xander would die; Dawn wouldn't leave her room for days. Buffy wandered about, as if lost. Anya couldn't move, Spike didn't say anything for weeks. Cordelia actually started filing things in the right order. Giles drank himself silly. Even Connor wailed for days, he felt the unhappiness in us all. The sorrow in our hearts was more than we could bear.  
  
Then Lorne came through. We got a word with The Powers That Be. They would listen to our case. We demanded you returned to us. We threw a hissy fit in front of the most powerful beings in existence. Until they shut us up. Literally, they took our voices from us so they could get a word in. They told us everything; we didn't want to hear it. But they made us. They made us understand, and they forced us to move on. It took time, but we were able to realize that no matter where you are, you would not give up as long as there were people to save, to help. We didn't like it, but we accepted it, though not for a few years.  
  
In the end, we practically deified you to the coming generations. And believe me, there are generations to come. We also knew where ever you were, you wouldn't be happy until you were positive we were okay. So this book, the first few pages as instructions for those you will save, the rest the story of our lives.  
  
We love you, forever and always,  
  
Liam Angelus Kieran O'Brien  
  
May 30, 2006  
  
Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she turned the page.  
  
*****  
  
God, what a difference a lifetime will make. Her friends lived on to old age with children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and so forth.  
  
Buffy and Faith were the last of the Slayers. When the Savior binded the realms, vampires disappeared from the Earth. The role of the Chosen One was retired, and the Watchers Council turned to the study of paranormal phenomenon.  
  
British, tweeded Ghostbusters, Willow nearly laughed herself to death.  
  
Most amazing was the way they paired themselves out.  
  
Angel and Spike shanshued. They regained their humanity, Spike regained his soul, and eventually the chip was removed.  
  
There were pictures of the two running around outside, in the sun. One of Spike, arms outstretched and the caption: "Daytimes visits ain't suicide no more." She made a mental note of the grammatical errors, only to turn the page and have Spike admonish her for wasting time thinking about that. She grinned sheepishly.  
  
Xander and Anya were married. They were happy. They had two beautiful children. A boy, Jesse Alexander Harris, and a girl, Willow Buffy Harris.  
  
As for Buffy, she married Riley Finn. That nearly knocked Willow right out of her chair. Apparently Riley had come back to help look for her and the two had reconciled. They had one girl, Joyce Willow Finn.  
  
Cordelia married Charles Gunn, the handsome ex gangbanger of Angel Investigations. They had three boys: Angel, Wesley, and Ricky Gunn. They were handsome devils.  
  
Wesley married Faith. That one did knock Willow out of her chair. Faith, how could someone marry Faith? She was in jail last time Willow checked. But, after some serious redemption and jail time, the rogue slayer's former Watcher decided to give her a chance. They married two years after her parole. They had two girls: Sasha and Anne Wyndum-Price.  
  
Giles returned to England after the search for Willow ended. He found Olivia again. They married the year before Giles became head of the Watchers Council. One daughter: Jennifer Rose Giles.  
  
Angel had become human. He was delirious; he could play with his son in the daytime. He was able to take Connor to the beach. There was a hilarious side story of Angel's first sunburn.  
  
He married Fred, the shy brunette who he saved from Pylea. In addition to Connor, they had a daughter- Willa Anne O'Brien, and a son- Kieran William O'Brien.  
  
Spike returned to human and to his real name William. He wrote poetry and novels for a living. He made millions.  
  
He fell in love with Dawn, her little Dawnie. They married when Dawn turned 21. They had one son- Alexander Liam Exeter and two daughters- Willamina Anne Exeter and Buffy Sasha Exeter.  
  
The book was covered in bios and pictures. Towards the end were letters. Notes, poems, messages, and whatever else they wanted to tell Willow.  
  
Anya wrote about her cold feet on her wedding day. Xander wrote all about how nervous he was about becoming a father. Buffy told of her insecurities of letting Riley in. Riley wrote of how much he missed the red head. Spike/William wrote of how he got over Buffy and eventually fell in love with Dawn. Dawn told her she loved her. Angel drew portraits, left notes of how much he appreciated Willow. Giles wrote to tell her of how he thought of her as his daughter.  
  
They all wrote things, their children wrote things. All to Willow, all full of love.  
  
At the ending, there was one last letter. From the Savior, from Connor Liam O'Brien, Angel's son.  
  
He wrote of the prophecy and he wrote of the making of Middle Earth. He wrote many things and Willow loved it all. But mostly she loved the ending paragraph.  
  
In closing, I'd like to add, though you were gone long before my first word, I remember you. My father use to lament that I was too young to remember the redheaded beauty everyone searched for, but he was wrong. I remembered. I don't know how, but then again I'm not exactly the most ordinary human. I remember the day I was baptized. You and the rest came down from Sunnydale. Father asked you to be a godmother to me. I remember the way you held me in your arms inside the church. It stuck in my mind throughout my entire life. One, because soon after you were gone and everyone wanted to find you. Second, you loved me. I'm not saying the others didn't love me, but their love was an offspring of the love they had for my father. When you held me, you loved me for being alive. Yes you were glad my father was able to have a son, and you loved it made him happy, but your love for me was a love you would give to any other child born. You loved life, in its every form. I followed your example as best as I could. I loved life where I found it, and it is because of that people call me the Savior.  
  
Yours truly,  
  
Connor Liam O'Brien  
  
*****  
  
Hours later, exhausted from her reading, Willow finished her book and sat back. Finally the tears came. All the tears she had been holding from the minute she saw the hole flooded out of her. Willow sobbed tears of true sorrow.  
  
A hand was placed on her shoulder. She looked up with her tear stained face. Strider looked down at her sympathetically.  
  
"I lost them," she sniffled. "I lost them all and I'm so far away from home."  
  
The tears came back, and Willow continued her cry. She needed comfort, preferably in the shape of her old life. Or maybe just one friend. Couldn't she have at least one of her old friends? Or maybe someone related to them?  
  
Couldn't they just bring her Xander, if only for one hour? Xander, oh gods, she'd never see Xander again.  
  
"I miss my Xander-shaped friend," she wailed. Strider looked at her a bit funny. She cried some more. No one here even understood her.  
  
Presently, Strider wrapped his arms around the weeping girl. She leaned against his chest and cried. She cried many tears. Strider just rocked her back and forth.  
  
"It'll be okay, Little One," he murmured, stroking her hair.  
  
Did she mention Strider reminded her of Angel?  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
Elrond called a council of Lords. Everyone was invited. Dwarf Lords, Elf Lords, and Human Lords. It was just a gigantic smorgasbord of Middle Earthlings.  
  
Willow was the only female invited, she felt out of place. Then again, being from 4400 years ago, Willow really was out of place. Nothing to be done about it.  
  
She clenched the cuffs of her dress.  
  
It seems the elven seamstresses were having a real tough time recreating Willow's clothing. So she was once again decked out in Arwen's clothes, a white dress. Willow was being to feel a bit bland. It's not like she didn't appreciate the gesture, but if she sees any more white things here, she was going to go ballistic. Willow loves colors'; being bland was starting to grate her nerves.  
  
So anyway, here she was waiting to be announced to Elrond's council, fidgeting in her borrowed dress, wishing she were in Mordor instead. At least there she wouldn't be put on center stage, like some freak on display.  
  
Willow never managed to get over her stage fright.  
  
Gandalf appeared at the end of the hallway. He motioned with his hand. Show time. Willow was debating how long it would take Strider to catch her if she took off running. Probably not too long.  
  
Stupid well fit man.  
  
Gandalf extended his elbow to her. She took it with shaking hands. He smiled reassuringly at her. It didn't help much.  
  
"May I present, Willow the Lady Firelight," Elrond's voice came booming out to them.  
  
Nope, didn't help in the least.  
  
Willow dropped Gandalf's arm and turned to run back up the steps. She ran right smack into Strider. He grabbed her arms and gave her an amused look.  
  
"I was just . . ." Willow trailed off when he turned her back around towards the meeting.  
  
"No, I can't do this," she squeaked. "I'm just plain old Willow. Hell, I'm nothing more than Velma, the most useless Scooby. Nothing special here, I should just go back to my room and let you guys continue."  
  
"Lady Firelight?" came Elrond's call.  
  
Strider patted her shoulder and led her straight into the council.  
  
Silence greeted her. Willow looked out over the gathered. Men, dwarves, and elves, all staring at her. She was stopped at Elrond's left side. He was giving some sort of introduction speech. Willow didn't hear any of it. There was blood roaring in her ears. Everyone just stared at her and Willow got redder by the minute.  
  
Presently, Strider gently pushed her to her seat, thankfully right next to Frodo. The young hobbit brightened at the sight of her, a feeling much reciprocated. She gingerly sat down. Strider gave her one last pat on the shoulder before taking his seat across from her.  
  
Next to the other humans. One dressed in purple and green silk, noble written all over him, was staring at her appraisingly. Willow reverted her eyes, only to find all the attendees staring at her. Not helping with the easing of her mind.  
  
Frodo grabbed her hand. She turned to him and smiled faintly. Faintly, interesting choice of words, considering she was about to faint. Yup, Willow Rosenburg was not long for this world of consciousness. She turned pleading eyes on Elrond.  
  
Thankfully, he diverted attention away from her.  
  
"We are here to discuss a very real threat to us all," he extended an arm in the direction of the hobbit. "Frodo Baggins, bring forth the ring."  
  
Frodo approached the center stage hesitantly. He quickly placed the ring on the pedestal provided. He hastened back to his seat, sighing heavily.  
  
All eyes were on the ring, and the ring liked it. Willow felt an illness creeping through her stomach. It made her head spin. What the hell was in this thing? Willow never felt this kind of magic before. It was pure blackness.  
  
"It's a gift," Willow snapped her head towards the voice. Noble mortal man had gotten up and was pacing before the king.  
  
"Long have my father and our men kept the border between Gondor and Mordor. Your lands are protected by the blood of our people. Give us the weapon of the enemy, we shall use it right."  
  
"No," Willow frowned. That sounded a lot like her voice. Probably because it was. Oh Boy. "You can't use that thing. It's just evil."  
  
The noble looked at her strangely.  
  
"She is right," Strider, bless his heart! "The ring only has one master and will work for no one but him. We cannot use it."  
  
"And what would a Ranger know of this?" the noble countered snidely.  
  
Willow saw red.  
  
"This is no mere Ranger!" Okay, that time it wasn't her. Willow glanced over at the speaker. It was a blond Elf, and he was really yummy. Willow's face turned red. Thank God no one here was a mind reader. She really hoped there wasn't.  
  
"This is Aragorn," the yummy Elf continued. Yeah, Willow was real bad. "Isildur's heir and heir to the throne of Gondor."  
  
The rest was a blur. Strider, or Aragorn, was Isildur's descendant. Isildur was Angel's descendant. Willow mentally drew the lines. She stared at Aragorn openly. He reminded her of Angel because there was Angel in him. He was Angel's ancestor. Her friend's family, and he knew. Willow saw it in his eyes, he knew all along. And he didn't say a thing. Willow wanted to start crying again.  
  
Willow was jarred out of her thoughts by an explosion. She gave a loud yelp at the noise. She looked towards center stage. A dwarf was being pulled off the ground by his friends. The shards of what looked like an axe surrounded the ring.  
  
"The ring cannot be destroyed by any means we have here, Gimli son of Gloin," Elrond uttered exasperatedly.  
  
A snicker escaped Willow before she could help it. The dwarf glared daggers at her. Willow turned red and sunk into her seat. This was going well.  
  
"The ring can only be destroyed from the same fiery chasm where it was forged," Willow sat up straighter, this was interesting. "The ring must be cast back into the volcano from whence it came, in the fires of Mount Doom in the land of Mordor."  
  
"Mount Doom, that's encouraging," she muttered under her breath. A giggle erupted from beside her. Frodo grinned up at her. Willow smiled and relaxed a bit. Not everyone here thought she was a rude, silly girl.  
  
Noble man began to laugh softly.  
  
"One does not simply walk into Mordor. It is a barren wasteland filled with poisonous fumes. On top of that, there is the eye," he held up his hand in an O shape. "Not with ten thousand men could you do this."  
  
"Well that instills confidence in me," Willow grumbled. This time everyone heard her. A couple of the Elves were snickering. Willow was going to die of embarrassment. Why couldn't she just shut up?  
  
"One of us must do this, it is the only way." Yummy Elf to the rescue. Willow was definitely going to have to find out his name.  
  
"And I suppose you think you should be the one," the dwarf, Gimli, bellowed. "I'll die before I see an Elf in possession of the ring of power. Never trust an Elf!"  
  
The council erupted into chaos. Everyone was fighting. Gandalf jumped from his seat and noble man started fighting with him. It was not going well.  
  
The ring loved the fighting. She could almost imagine it crowing in happiness. Willow was taking a serious disliking to that thing.  
  
She heard a soft whimper. She looked over at Frodo; he was clutching his head, as if in pain. Sweat beads were forming on his forehead. The poor darling was in torment. She pressed her fingers against his temples. He shut his eyes and a vision hit them both.  
  
An eye, encased in flames. It was laughing, it loved the chaos.  
  
Frodo opened his eyes and looked at Willow. "I will take it," he whispered.  
  
Willow closed her eyes in resignation. A tear leaked out. She had hoped the hobbits would have been able to return to their home, the Shire. It sounded so lovely; the hobbits were in love with it. Now, she could see it was not going to happen. Frodo's life was so intricately woven with the fate of the ring, it was hard for her to see where one ends or the other begins.  
  
"I will take it," louder this time, drawing everyone's attention. "I will take the ring into Mordor." The fighting stopped, everyone stared at the hobbit.  
  
"Only, I do not know the way," Frodo finished hesitantly.  
  
Willow stepped up behind him. "I'm going with him," she stated firmly. "Not like I know the way or anything, but I'm going. Maybe you could give the kid a map or something, cause I'm no real help with those things."  
  
Gandalf smiled at them proudly. "My dear children," he came towards them with arms outstretched. "You will not bear this burden alone. I will carry it with you, however long it is yours to bear." Willow and Frodo were enveloped into a large, fatherly hug.  
  
Strid- no Aragorn, also approached the two. "By my life or death, I will protect you. My sword is at your disposal."  
  
There was the Angel-ness again. Now she knew where it came from, Angel.  
  
"And my bow!" Yea! Yummy Elf was coming.  
  
"And my axe!" The dwarf. Maybe he had some redeeming qualities.  
  
Noble man looked hard at the volunteers. Willow returned his steady gaze with her resolve face.  
  
"The fate of us all is on your shoulders. We're all counting on you, little ones," he stated.  
  
Willow guessed that was his way of volunteering.  
  
There was a burst of rustling behind them.  
  
"Hey!" Sam emerged from the bushes of the garden. He skittered out to stand beside Frodo.  
  
"Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without me," he declared firmly. Willow smirked and pulled leaves out of his hair. He gave her a warm smile.  
  
"Indeed, it would not be so," Elrond affirmed sarcastically. "It is hardly possible to separate you two, even when he is invited to a secret council and you are not." Sam had the sense to look slightly shamed.  
  
"We're coming too!" came a shriek, followed by the pattering of footsteps.  
  
Merry and Pippin raced out behind from two pillars. Elrond looked about ready to blow. Willow snickered and swept Pippin up into her arms.  
  
"He had us tied up in a potato sack to keep us away," he informed her indignantly.  
  
Willow raised her eyebrows in amusement. "You certainly showed him, didn't ya?"  
  
Pippin nodded emphatically. "Besides," he continued. "You need people of intelligence on this sort of a question . . . Quest . . . Thing."  
  
Merry rolled his eyes. "Well that leaves you out, doesn't it Pippin." Willow giggled some more. The whole ordeal was ridiculous. She hugged the young hobbit in her arms more closely.  
  
Elrond was smiling again. "Very well," he agreed. "One Lady of the light and nine warriors to accompany her. You shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring."  
  
Pippin was ecstatic. "So," he began amiably. "Where are we going?"  
  
*****  
  
Willow had to find Aragorn. Yep, she had finally deprogrammed the Strider out of her. She was looking for ARAGORN.  
  
And she was having a damn hard time. She wished the hobbits were here to help her look, but they were spending quality time with their old friend Bilbo. He was quite the character, but Willow sensed he needed time alone with the younger hobbits. So she had gone off, to find Aragorn, and having no luck whatsoever.  
  
"That's it!" she fumed, plopping down on the numerous benches of the palace. "I officially give up."  
  
"Give up what, My Lady?" Willow glanced up. Boromir, noble guy.  
  
Willow shrugged her shoulders. "I need to talk to Aragorn," she answered, timidly. Not that he was intimidating or anything, in fact he was quite nice. Willow still felt wholly out of place with anyone but her hobbit friends. And Aragorn, Angel's blood.  
  
Boromir smiled kindly at her. "I saw him naught a moment ago," he offered, pointing down the hall. "He was talking with Legolas."  
  
Thanking him, Willow raced down the hall. She had some serious things to discuss with Mr. Lets-keep-my-heritage-a-secret.  
  
She found him in deep discussion with Legolas, the Yummy Elf. Willow reddened. She was having a tougher time deprogramming that one out of her. Both looked up at her cough.  
  
"I need to talk to Aragorn," she stated quietly. Aragorn looked down at the floor. He knew what was coming.  
  
Legolas smiled agreeably and left without saying a word. Well actually he did say something, but it totally flew over Willow's head after he smiled. Damn, the boy was fine!  
  
At the rate her thoughts were going, Willow was probably burst into flames. She had a hard time thinking productive thoughts when the handsome Elf was around. It didn't make much sense to her. After all, she just broke up with Tara, the woman she loved. Willow was a lesbian, wasn't she? Her head hurt, she couldn't understand much of her own feelings. But the boy was fine! She just prayed no one else noticed the mammoth-sized crush she was developing on Legolas.  
  
Aragorn offered her a seat. She took it without saying a word. He sat beside her, also wordless. The talk was getting off to a grand start.  
  
Finally, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Willow turned to look Aragorn right in the eyes.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me you're a descendant of Angel's?"  
  
Aragorn sighed. "My apologies, dear Willow. I am not proud to be the heir of Isildur. When I initially met you and the hobbits, I decided it was best not to tell you I was the heir of the Betrayer. It fills me with great shame, I did not want you to know."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I did not want you to think less of me for it."  
  
"Why would I think less of you for it? It wasn't your fault Isildur did what he did."  
  
"But don't you see?" he turned pleading eyes on her. "I am his heir. The same blood that flows through mine veins was his. The same weakness-"  
  
"NO!" Willow stood up, visibly angry. "Don't you dare to ashamed of the blood that runs through your veins. Yes, it belonged to Isildur once too, but it is not the bearer of weakness or evil. It is the noblest blood, greatest heritage that anyone can claim."  
  
Aragorn looked stunned. "How so?"  
  
She sighed and sat back down. "Do you know of Angelus?" He nodded.  
  
"Right. Angelus was a vampire, a horrible vampire. He was called the Scourge of Europe, he did terrible things. Then one day, he went and royally pissed off some Romanian gypsies. They cursed him with a human soul. The demon was subdued, and Angelus was left with the guilt of thousands of deaths by his hand. He nearly gave up. Crawled into alleyways, fed off rats, and lived quite the pathetic existence for over 100 years.  
  
Then, a demon came to see him. Well, a half demon named Whistler, who was actually one of the good guys. He cleaned him up and took him to Los Angeles, California. Whistler showed him a girl, a beautiful blond girl who stole his heart at first sight. She was Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer.  
  
Soon, she was moved to Sunnydale, the Hellmouth. He followed her. She lived as normally as one could, being the person standing between the world and hell. She had friends. A British librarian who loved to read and wore tons of tweed. A goofy young man whose bravery was unbound. And a tiny meek little hacker girl whom Buffy brought out of her shell. That hacker was I, and I became the Slayer's best friend.  
  
Angel, as he now called himself, watched over Buffy and her friends. He saved my life more than once. He shared a love with Buffy that was so beautiful and entirely painful. They tried as hard as they could, but a vampire and a slayer were not meant to be.  
  
He went back to LA; he started an agency there. He spent his life helping the helpless. His soul was strong, and he passed that strong soul onto his son, Connor. You guys call him the Savior. So, you see, the blood you have in your veins is perfect blood. Blood of brave warriors. It's not the blood that causes weakness. It's the person's soul. And you have a good soul, a part of Angel's soul is in you."  
  
"How can you be so sure?" he whispered faintly.  
  
Willow tipped his face up to look him in the eyes.  
  
"Because I'm the one who gave him that soul. I can kind of sense it like a mile away," she answered calmly.  
  
He stared at her amazed.  
  
"You gave Angelus his soul?"  
  
Willow nodded. He turned away, as if contemplating her words. Then his eyes dimmed and he opened his mouth to speak again.  
  
"No!" she interrupted before he could even begin.  
  
"No more whining and self doubt. You're a great guy, worthy to be called Angel's heir. No use arguing about it mister. I'm more than ready to whip out the old Resolve Face."  
  
Aragorn closed his mouth and smiled.  
  
Then he frowned, as if confused.  
  
"What is a 'Resolve Face'?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven  
  
And they were walking again.  
  
The Fellowship departed from the house of Elrond early in the morning. They had set out on foot. Willow was really missing the days of automobiles and public transportation. She wasn't athletic enough to do so much walking.  
  
It wasn't all bad. The Elven maids had finally finished her clothes. She was once again clad in her leather pants and nice green tank top. Well, replication of her former clothes. The sweethearts had even made her a jacket that matched her pants. It looked a lot like Spike's old duster. When she had gotten it, she had begun bawling her eyes out. The poor maids thought they had done something wrong. It took quite a long time to explain she was just homesick. The maids were sympathetic, but they couldn't understand why the jacket had set her off. Willow decided best not to tell them the duster was a trademark of a certain bleached blonde vampire whom she once called friend. That would have made them think she was just plain nuts. As it was, they thought her babbling habit was some sort of personality disorder.  
  
Arwen had seen her off privately. She gave Willow a beautiful silver locket. She had wished the redhead well. The Elf woman had taken to looking at Willow with awe and some jealousy. Willow was pretty sure it had to do with her friendship with Aragorn. Like those two were hiding anything. Willow knew the score.  
  
Anyways, where was she? Oh yeah, the walking. There was a lot of that. The only highlight of the travel was walking behind Legolas. Yummy Elf had quite the nice ass. Of course, that highlight was also a lowlight. Whenever she dwelt on the fact, she turned a horrible red shade. The hobbits had noticed but chalked it up to the strenuous walking. She didn't disabuse them of the notion.  
  
Finally, they stopped for a break. Frodo and Sam set happily about making lunch, a lot of lunch. Merry and Pippin were off with Boromir, he was teaching them how to use of sword. He had started off trying to teach Willow, but she had shown quite an amount of skill with the basics of it. He had, however, informed her that her style was too rigid and she needed to be more innovative. Being one to take criticism lightly, Willow promptly asked him for a lesson in staff fighting.  
  
Twenty seconds later, she had the large man in the same position she had Aragorn when she first met him. Flat on his back with her staff jabbing him in the stomach. Yummy Elf and Aragorn had burst out laughing. Willow would have joined them, but she felt kind of childish tricking Boromir like that. And having her thought patterns return to calling Legolas the Yummy Elf. She really needed to control that.  
  
As for Boromir, he laughed it off good-naturedly.  
  
"I should have known better," he reasoned. "After all, what would the great Lady Firelight need with my instructions?"  
  
Great Lady Firelight. She had liked the sound of it, initially, it was kind of cool. But after being referred to by it so many times, Willow was about ready to stake Spike for thinking up the stupid name. She just wanted to be Willow, no one else but Willow.  
  
Merry and Pippin were pretty quick learners. And they looked so adorable trying to fend off the parries of Boromir. Willow watched happily from the sidelines for a while, until Gandalf called her.  
  
"My dear girl," he started after she settled down next to him, "why is it you hoard your magic inside you?"  
  
Willow hung her head in shame. "I have to," she explained softly. "I became addicted to doing magic. I lost it, spent all my time trying to get more of it. I left myself vulnerable for attack, and I dragged my poor Dawnie right into it. I nearly killed her one night. After that, I gave the whole mess up."  
  
Gandalf knit his eyes together in confusion. "I don't understand how you can think so badly of your talents. Yes, I see you had a bit of a downturn with it, but that was because you were using the wrong tools. The use of the dark magics will almost always lead to trouble. Now, if you started magic again, but this time with Wise magic, you would have no such problems."  
  
Willow opened her mouth, but failed to come up with the words to properly refuse. Gandalf patted her hand lightly. He then handed her a book.  
  
"This is Wise magic," he explained. "Think of what I have said. This may be what you were looking for."  
  
Then Gimli started complaining about something called Moria. Gandalf had visibly paled, and it looked like the two were about to go at it. Willow left them to their own devices; she had had enough of fighting.  
  
She looked at the book in her hands. Magic. Could she trust herself to do magic again? What if the same thing happened? What if she lost it and this entire world of Middle Earth was left to pay the consequences of her actions? Willow couldn't do that, she didn't dare risk it.  
  
A nagging feeling in her mind drew her attention away from the book. Something was coming, it smelled of magic. It reeked of dark magic. And it was focused on the ring.  
  
Willow stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff. Yup, they were on another cliff. Willow was debating developing a fear of heights. Nothing good ever happened to her on a high elevation. Then again, on the ground, things weren't always that much better. Maybe she should live on the clouds, didn't see a bad side to that. Except she couldn't fly, stupid human limitations.  
  
Someone hopped down beside her.  
  
It was Legolas; he was intent on whatever it was too. Normally, being this close to him would have made Willow very distracted, but the magic on the wind was even greater than her silly attraction to the Elf.  
  
But he still had a great ass.  
  
"What is it?" he asked. Willow shrugged and turned back to "it". A dark mass on the horizon, moving towards them.  
  
"It's just a whiff of clouds," Gimli offered from behind them.  
  
"It's moving awful fast for a cloud," Aragorn mused.  
  
"Against the wind," Boromir added.  
  
Gandalf's eyes grew wide. "It's the Crebain! Hide, hide everything!"  
  
And then there was chaos.  
  
Willow grabbed her books and her staff. Legolas grabbed her arm and pulled her underneath a small crevice. Her heart was beating rapidly; she couldn't see the others at all. She felt the crebain get closer. The magic rolled off them in waves.  
  
Willow breathed heavily, though quietly. Slowly, she became aware of how close Legolas was to her. The Elf was sprawled out on top of the redhead. Her face went red and her breathing quickened. The Elf turned his eyes on her, a question on his face. She tried to turn hers away lest she reveal something with them.  
  
Blue eyes stared into green. The crebain moved closer, and so did Legolas. Willow's breath caught, her eyes widened. She watched as the Elf lowered his face to hers. Her eyes closed. Their lips meant.  
  
Willow was blown out of the water. The crebain arrived, shrieking and cawing up a storm, but she barely noticed. All she felt was Legolas' lips on hers; it was burning her up from the inside. The Elf pried her lips apart and slipped his tongue into her mouth. Rational thought ended there.  
  
Willow had never been kissed like this before. Yeah, she had tongue with Oz, Xander, Tara, and once with Spike (something they never mentioned to anyone else), but it never made her feel like this. She pressed closely against him; she needed more of his touch. He complied, his hands roaming her body feverishly fast. And then:  
  
"They're gone, everyone out!"  
  
Aragorn's shout jerked Willow away from Legolas. The Elf stared at her hungrily, and she went redder than her hair.  
  
"We should go," she squeaked. She leapt out of their spot without giving him a chance to answer. As she headed to the others, she tried to cool her flush face and prayed her lips weren't too bruised by the kiss.  
  
No one seemed to notice, that was good. They were all focused on something, most likely the crebain. Willow remembered them, and she was totally focused on their situation.  
  
Riight.  
  
"Spies for Saruman," Gandalf spit distastefully. "The southern way has been blocked," he turned around abruptly. "We must head north, take the passage of Caradhras."  
  
Everyone groaned. Willow stepped close to Aragorn.  
  
"What's Carrot Toss?" she asked.  
  
He smiled at her. "Caradhras," he corrected her mildly. He gestured behind them. "The mountain."  
  
Willow followed his motion. It was the mother of all mountains, and covered in snow. What fun.  
  
She pouted and whimpered. Aragorn smiled pityingly and gave her arm a squeeze before turning to help the hobbits pack up their supplies. Willow turned to help him, and she caught a quick glimpse of Legolas. He was glaring at Aragorn with what looked like jealously on his handsome face.  
  
Oh boy, what had she done now?  
  
*****  
  
Willow got her wish. The company wasn't walking any more. Now they were trudging. Trudging through the snow. Uphill, well up mountain. Carrot Toss was one bitch of a mountain. She preferred walking to this. What's that saying about a double-edged sword?  
  
Willow also decided she hated snow. Snow bad, sun good. She was a Californian at heart. She needed the beach and the sand and the sun. She also needed to mend the whole situation with Legolas, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon.  
  
Speaking of the Elf, he was having no problems with the snow at all. He was just skipping about like a, uh, well a fairy or something, which he was. Just walking on top of the snow like it was no big deal. If she didn't have such a huge crush on the guy, Willow would be seriously mad at him. As it was, she was just irked. Well, maybe more than irked, but since she was playing with his emotions, Willow felt she should keep her feelings to herself.  
  
Also, there were the murder looks Legolas was shooting Aragorn. Willow was afraid to even talk to the man lest the Elf lose it entirely. Of course, Legolas was projecting killer stares at any other member of the Fellowship Willow ventured close to. Even the hobbits, it was unnerving. Willow had to talk to him, but privacy was a really big issue at the moment. Being that there was none of it. Also, there was that overwhelming urge to run as far away from the situation as possible.  
  
She heard a yelp behind her. Frodo had slipped. Aragorn pulled him to his feet. Boromir walked towards them and then stopped. Frodo was frantically searching his neck for something. Boromir bent down and plucked something from the snow. Willow felt the ring send out its call. It was calling Boromir, and the guy was having a hard time resisting.  
  
"It's a wonder we toil so hard for such a simple thing," he murmured. He brought his hand up, as if to touch the ring. Willow leaped forward and stayed his hand.  
  
"Don't touch that thing," she warned him softly. "It's trying to pull you in."  
  
"Boromir," Aragorn looked the man straight in the eyes. "Give the ring back to Frodo."  
  
"Of course," Boromir mumbled, distractedly. He handed the chain back to Frodo. "I care not," he insisted with a strangled laugh. With a ruffle of the hobbit's hair, the man turned back up the slope.  
  
Willow turned concerned eyes to Aragorn. He shrugged and helped Frodo back up the hill. Willow lent her hand out to him, and slowly the three climbed to meet the others.  
  
In front of them, the group waited patiently. Legolas was simmering quietly. His gaze concentrated on Aragorn. Willow dropped Aragorn's hand.  
  
This was going to get ugly.  
  
*****  
  
The snow just got worse.  
  
It came thundering down. The company was resorted to trudging single file up the mountain, with Gandalf paving a way with his staff. Did she mention Carrot Toss was one bitch of a mountain?  
  
The hobbits were having the worst of it. The snow came up to their noses. Boromir and Aragorn were forced to carry them halfway through the hike.  
  
Willow clung to the back of Aragorn's clothes, pulling herself along with them. She was well aware that every time she touched Aragorn, Legolas started to fume. Right now, she didn't give a rat's ass. She was cold and miserable and clinging to Aragorn gave warmth and support.  
  
A sudden dread filled Willow's mind. Magic, strong magic, barreling straight towards them. She had a feeling it was that Saruman guy again.  
  
"Legolas," she called. The Elf was at her side in an instant. "I need to talk to Gandalf," she shouted over the wind. He nodded, looked slightly disappointed, and pulled her out of the snow. Nimbly, he ran to the front of the line, pulling Willow safely behind him.  
  
Why didn't he mention he could do this before?  
  
"Gandalf, there's some real bad mojo headed our way." Willow pointed out over the horizon. "Someone's sending us bad luck."  
  
Legolas nodded. "There's black magic on the wind," he affirmed. Gandalf paused; he seemed at a lost at what to do. Suddenly, a giant rumbling came from above. The magic sent rocks tumbling down the mountain.  
  
"Get back!" came Gandalf's cry.  
  
Legolas pulled Willow up against the mountain wall and covered her head. As the rocks came down, he placed kisses on her neck. They were under assault and he could only think with his libido. Great. Fantastic. She would knock some sense into him, but those kisses were mighty pleasant. Willow was the real Restraint Girl.  
  
"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Again, Aragorn's cry pulled Willow out of Legolas' arms. The Elf growled.  
  
If the situation weren't so serious, she would have laughed. He sounded exactly like Spike when he did it.  
  
"Gandalf!" Aragorn continued. "We must turn back!"  
  
"No!" the wizard refused. "We must keep moving."  
  
He turned out to the horizon, hefted his staff and mumbled something in another language. He was doing a counter spell. It wasn't strong enough.  
  
Willow was about to head over and offer him her magic when another rumbling shook the mountain.  
  
Legolas grabbed her again, spun her around, ducked her head, and stuck his tongue in her mouth. As the snow buried them, she was quite sure he didn't need to do that last part.  
  
The snow stopped falling and the company dug itself out. Willow still had Legolas' tongue in her mouth during the process. Never occurred to her to push him away, what with all the danger surrounding them. Yeah right, she'd permanently join the Elf at the lip if such an act had roused much attention. Did she mention he was a really good kisser?  
  
Detaching herself rather reluctantly from her, ahem, friend. Turning towards the others, she checked to make sure everyone had been dug out.  
  
She wasn't avoiding looking at Legolas, nope not at all. She was just worried about her friends. Not in the least trying to avoid the Yummy Elf behind her. Oh God, she was back to calling him Yummy Elf.  
  
"Gandalf," Aragorn shouted. "We must go back. It is folly to continue!"  
  
"Why try to brave the mountain?" offered Gimli. "Why not go under it instead? I say we take the road of Moria."  
  
Gandalf looked lost. He turned to Willow, she shook her head. She didn't have a clue what everyone was talking, so she decided to stay out it.  
  
"Let the Ringbearer decide," he finally relented.  
  
Frodo paused, deep in thought. He turned apologetic eyes to Gandalf. "We take the mines," he decided. Gandalf paled, but nodded.  
  
"All right," Willow enthused. "Let's get the hell off Carrot Toss."  
  
"CARADHRAS!!"  
  
Willow rolled her eyes.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight  
  
They were off the mountain. Willow felt like cheering. She would have too, if not for the somber attitudes of all the others. She knew Legolas' foul mood was ninety percent her fault, the others just felt defeated. Gimli was the only one in high spirits.  
  
"My cousin Balin will give us a royal welcome," he kept on boasting. Willow was cool with that. It sounded much better than "My cousin Balin will feed us alive to his pet ogre."  
  
Willow wasn't sure there was an ogre. Maybe she was just over thinking things, again. But Gandalf was so against this place, it made her wonder.  
  
What the hell could be so horrible? He neglected to answer any of her questions. The wizard just kept marching on to Moria, even though he looked like he prefer heading down into the Hellmouth.  
  
They came to a clearing. It was a giant mountain wall, covered in vines and symbols.  
  
"The walls of Moria," breathed Gimli in awe.  
  
Willow had to agree with the awe. It was quite a sight. Now if only that nagging dread in the back of her mind would fade, everything would be great. That and resolving the whole Legolas problem, everything would be great. Not likely to happen.  
  
They walked around the rim of a lake. Gandalf had paused in front of a block of stone. He cleared away some veins, glanced at the moon, mumbled some words, and stepped back. The wall began to glow. Writing and symbols appeared, all in the shape of a door. It was pretty cool.  
  
"What does it say?"  
  
"'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter'," Gandalf translated.  
  
"What does that mean?" asked Merry.  
  
"Oh, it's quite simple," the wizard answered. "You just speak the password to prove you are a friend and the doors will open."  
  
Gandalf stepped back from the door. "Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen! Fennas nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!" He slammed his staff against the door with great pomp.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
He tried again. Nothing. The wizard paused, and scratched his head.  
  
"Now what do we do?"  
  
*****  
  
The company had settled down for a long sit. Gimli and Boromir had both lit up. Willow really wanted to know what the stuff was, only to be told it was halfing weed. Like that answered any questions.  
  
Well, okay, it answered only one.  
  
Sam and Aragorn were unhitching Bill, their ever faithful pony. They couldn't bring him into the mines. That is of course, if they ever get in there themselves. Gandalf wasn't having the best of luck. But he kept on trying. Give the guy points for perseverance.  
  
Merry and Pippin were absently chucking rocks into the lake. Legolas was staring at Willow, and she was studiously ignoring him. Hell, she even started to read the Wise book Gandalf gave her just so she would have a reason not to look at him. This whole situation was entirely too tense.  
  
Willow kept shooting glances at the water. Something was off. She felt a little afraid. Gods, she prayed there weren't frogs in the lake.  
  
Aragorn walked over, stopping the hobbits' mild game.  
  
"Don't disturb the water," he warned, eyes flicking over the dark pool.  
  
Willow straightened. What was wrong with the water?  
  
Aragorn met her eyes. "Just a feeling," he answered her silent question.  
  
"But not any frogs, right?"  
  
Aragorn frowned. "Frogs?" he repeated.  
  
Willow nodded frantically. "I have frog fear. I know it sounds stupid and that I need an adult fear, but it's just how I feel. After all, phobias aren't suppose to make sense," she rambled on.  
  
Aragorn smiled at her. "Frog fear," he repeated. "How perfectly Willow."  
  
Willow blushed, he was becoming more and more like Angel as the time went on. It was beginning to pull at Willow's heart. She missed her friends.  
  
Legolas, of course, misinterpreted her blushing, stomped off to the other side of the lake. Aragorn watched him in confusion. He looked to Willow.  
  
"What is bothering Legolas?"  
  
Willow's eyes widened. "Nothing," she stammered. "Nothing is wrong with him. Why would anything be wrong with him? And if there was, why do you think I know? What exactly are you implying?"  
  
Aragorn held up his hands in surrender. Willow took a deep breath.  
  
"He has a personal issue going on," she offered apologetically. "It's not my place to say what it is. Sorry I snapped at you." It was the half-truth at least. Aragorn bought it.  
  
"No offence taken, my lady," he replied, settling down next to her. He leaned over. "I've just noticed," he whispered to her, "that when anyone gets really close to you," Aragorn slipped a lock of her hair behind her ear, "Legolas seems to get very angry." He smiled at her slyly. "It's almost as if he was jealous."  
  
Willow gave a nervous laugh. "Why would that make him jealous?"  
  
Aragorn grinned. "I don't know," he admitted, this time putting his lips to her ear. If he weren't Angel's descendant, she would be mighty uncomfortable right now. "But look at his face," Willow turned to looked at Legolas, who was watching them very keenly. "Doesn't he look jealous to you?"  
  
Willow caught on fast. "You're purposely trying to make him jealous," she accused in hush tones.  
  
Aragorn grinned again. "Now how could I do that, when being friendly with you doesn't make him jealous?"  
  
Willow glared at him. "You're evil," she fumed. Aragorn laughed at her. He patted her knee and got ready to stand up. Legolas was going to burst. Quickly, before she could react, Aragorn planted a soft kiss on her lips. Legolas shot across the shore, standing possessively in front of Willow in one instant.  
  
Willow shot up. "Knock it off," she ordered. "The others are staring!"  
  
Aragorn looked at Legolas appraisingly, the mirth replaced by a deadly glare.  
  
"You should no better to start a romance on a mission, old friend."  
  
Legolas' eyes flickered. Willow guessed he realized the whole thing was a set up. He blushed and looked at his toes. Willow turned wide eyes on Aragorn.  
  
"Do not let yourself be distracted," he warned. With that, he grabbed Willow's arm and dragged her away from the Elf. She stared at him in confusion as he propelled her over to Frodo and Gandalf. Dropping her beside the hobbit, Aragorn returned to his own seat, effectively blocking Willow's view of Legolas.  
  
"What was that all about?" Frodo whispered.  
  
"Nothing," she stammered. "Aragorn and Legolas don't agree on something. It's not the end of the world."  
  
Frodo frowned but accepted her explanation. It was sort of the truth. Willow wasn't sure what Aragorn was mad about, but it was definitely something revolving around her and the Elf. Willow absently wondered if he knew about the stolen kisses.  
  
"I give up!" came Gandalf's cry. He plopped down beside them, utterly dejected.  
  
Frodo sighed. "I wish the door would just understand we are friends and let us through," he lamented.  
  
A light went off in Willow's brain.  
  
"Frodo, you're a genius!" she crowed, planting a big wet one on the hobbit's nose. He looked shocked, Gandalf looked curious.  
  
"It's a riddle," she explained. "What's the elvish word for 'friend'?"  
  
Gandalf pursed his lips together. "Mellon," he drawled thoughtfully.  
  
There was a loud creaking. The stone doors pushed open. Everyone jumped up in excitement. Willow smiled at Frodo.  
  
"See? A genius you are."  
  
*****  
  
They entered the passage tentatively. Didn't want any surprises. It was very dark; no light existed in the entrance.  
  
Gandalf whispered some elvish words and the top of his staff started admitting a light. Gimli was going on and on about the great treatment Balin was going to give them.  
  
Willow kept the hobbits carefully behind her as she followed Aragorn into the entrance. Aragorn, who had put Gimli and Boromir in between her and Legolas. His anger seemed to be focused on the Elf, not her. It made her wonder what he thought was going on. She would ask him, but it didn't seem like the most opportune time.  
  
Something snapped underneath her foot. She looked down-at bone. She stepped on a bone, and there was plenty more.  
  
"This isn't a mine, it's a tomb," came Boromir's calming statement. Thanks for clearing it up.  
  
She looked down at the corpse in sorrow. Why couldn't it just be gold or flowers or something? Why is it always bodies that Willow stumbled upon?  
  
Gimli was having hysterics. Willow walked over to him, placing her hand on his back in comfort. The dwarf was wailing.  
  
Legolas drooped down over a body and pulled out an arrow. He sniffed it delicately.  
  
"Orcs!" he hissed, dropping the shaft away as if it were contaminated.  
  
Everyone drew his or her weapons. Willow edged her way back to the hobbits. The men were helpfully blaming each other for the latest development.  
  
Oh, the comradeship in this group.  
  
Screaming drew her attention back to the hobbits. She heard splashing and shrieking. The other three hobbits were crowded over a fallen Frodo. Sam was desperately hacking at something.  
  
Another splash and the hobbits were thrown back. The others raced outside. Large tentacles were wrapped around Frodo's leg and had him suspended in the air.  
  
Great, a sea monster. Or was that a lake monster?  
  
Everyone rushed out, hacking at any part of the body that moved. Like that was helping any, the limbs were just falling around the group. They had to dance around them to avoid being pummeled.  
  
Willow decided to ignore the body of the thing and concentrate on the tentacles. She heard the whiz of arrows as Legolas let some loose on the creature. Aragorn, Gimli, and Boromir were hacking away at flailing limbs.  
  
Willow focused on the one tentacle holding Frodo. Discerning it from the others, she drew her sword and sliced through the appendage. Frodo started to fall back down; a tentacle knocked down Willow. Aragorn pulled her to her feet, shouting instructions at the others. Boromir charged back into the mine carrying Frodo. Legolas let some more arrows go. It was a nice mass of confusion.  
  
And then the creature fully emerged from the water.  
  
Willow's eyes widened, she knew what it was. The last time she had seen one was the day the Gatehouse opened. The Scooby Gang hadn't bothered to fight the thing; it was too huge and too strong. It had demolished the Sunnydale Harbor during its stay on the Hellmouth.  
  
Yeah, Krakens were bad news.  
  
It came at them suddenly. Aragorn gathered her up in his arms much like Boromir had Frodo. The whole company charged for the entrance. Legolas fired more arrows, Gimli chucked more axes, and it did little to impede the creature's progress.  
  
It followed them into the mines. The walls shook as it tried to shove itself into the entrance.  
  
Stupid move.  
  
Concentrating on the little Elvish Willow could remember from her recent reading, she cast a spell. The door and its surrounding walls collapsed on the creature, killing it instantly.  
  
Gandalf stared at her in amazement. She looked at him in hysterical anger.  
  
"I thought you said Connor closed hell and made all the monsters go back!" she accused.  
  
He looked slightly affronted.  
  
"He did," the wizard insisted. "Only creatures of this earth were allowed to remain."  
  
Willow frowned. "The Kraken is a creature of this earth?"  
  
Gandalf shrugged. "Apparently," he conceded. He gave her another look.  
  
"We have no choice but to take the roads through Moria now."  
  
Willow felt a bit indignant. "I was just trying to prevent the sea monster from eating us," she mumbled, burying her head in Aragorn's chest. The first time she had done magic in this place and someone was already criticizing her for it.  
  
Aragorn patted her hair and glared at the wizard.  
  
Gandalf sighed in defeat.  
  
"I know lass," he relented. "You did a good thing. We should get on our way."  
  
Legolas sidled up to the wizard. "Aye, maybe Aragorn should put the Lady down so we can see to her injuries."  
  
Willow blushed, she had forgot about that. Quickly, the redhead hopped out of Aragorn's arms.  
  
"No medical attention needed," she replied sheepishly. "Just got the wind knocked out of me."  
  
Gandalf turned back to the mines. Legolas and Aragorn glared at each other. Boromir raised an eyebrow at Willow. She shrugged and turned to check the hobbits for any injuries. Boromir turned to check on Gimli.  
  
Satisfied, they all turned and followed Gandalf further into the mines. Legolas and Aragorn walked together, side-by-side, glaring venom at each other.  
  
The Fellowship was on the verge of suicide.  
  
*****  
  
This trip was turning out to be a lot of fun. Walking to trudging to trudging while freezing, to fighting Krakens and now, climbing up the steep entrance of the former mine turned tomb.  
  
There were bodies everywhere. It did little to calm Gimli, or Willow for that matter. It was an obvious one-sided massacre. And whatever won was most likely still in the mines with them.  
  
And so they proceeded in silence. Well, as much silence as they could muster. Willow was having a hard time not swearing as she climbed the slippery rock steps. A few of her statements had caused Sam to turn red. Great, now she was a bad influence on the younger ones.  
  
Legolas had positioned himself on her right side. Every now and then, he lent her a hand to steady herself with. Aragorn was not happy. He was glaring at the Elf but not making a scene for Willow's sake.  
  
"He is jealous," Legolas whispered to her after catching her once more.  
  
Willow frowned at him. "Who's jealous?" she muttered, concentrating on pulling herself yet another step.  
  
How come dwarves, a race of people tinier than humans, made steps taller than the average human man? It was frickin' insane.  
  
"Aragorn," Legolas replied.  
  
"What about Aragorn?" Willow asked.  
  
"He is jealous," Willow snorted.  
  
"No really," Legolas insisted. "Think, why else would he be so angry with only myself in relation to our affair?"  
  
Willow shook her head in refusal. "No, he's Aragorn. He's totally in love with Arwen. And besides, he's Aragorn."  
  
Legolas stared at her pointedly. "He is a man," he countered. "A man with two perfectly functioning eyes. Methinks his anger is an offspring of the jealousy he feels at our closeness."  
  
Willow frowned at him. She thought over his words. No, it was impossible. Willow wasn't sure why Aragorn was so angry at the Elf, but wasn't because he was interested in her. That was preposterous.  
  
Sneaking a peek at Aragorn behind her, she reaffirmed that. He was watching the progress of the company with concern. He met her gaze and smiled. Willow smiled back. Aragorn was Aragorn; he had no mushy feelings concerning her.  
  
His smiled vanished into a glare when Legolas put a hand on her back. She might have to rethink her position.  
  
Presently Gandalf reached the top of the stairs. The wizard stretched and waited for the others to join him. Once together, he turned around as if to continue. In front of them were three different passages.  
  
He stopped suddenly.  
  
"I have no memory of this place."  
  
*****  
  
They were lost. Gandalf sat on a rock facing the three options. He was smoking profusely and deep in thought. Willow was pretty sure the halfing weed wouldn't do much to help clear his memory.  
  
The hobbits were hungry. Not that it was news or anything. The hobbits were always hungry. Just now, they were whining about it. Well, Pippin was whining about it. Merry was telling him to be quiet, Sam was moping about leaving Bill the pony outside, and Frodo had gone off to talk to Gandalf. She overheard something about a Gollum, the thing that had found the ring like 600 years ago. Willow was pretty sure it was the thing that had been following them for about three days. Normally, she would have been freaked, but Gandalf had seemed unperturbed by it. So she let it slide. After all, the wizard knew a lot more than she did.  
  
Boromir was trying to tell her about the white city of Gondor. It sounded like a kick ass place. Of course, it would have sounded better if the man ever got to start his story properly. Legolas and Aragorn having some mild spat or the other were constantly interrupting him.  
  
After the third interruption, Willow decided she had had enough. Excusing herself from Boromir's side, she charged over to Aragorn. She grabbed his arm and led him away from the rest of the group. Everyone was staring at them. Willow didn't care; she needed to talk to the man.  
  
"What is your problem?" she hissed at him.  
  
Aragorn looked at her calmly. "Nothing is wrong."  
  
"Yeah right," she countered. "That's why you and Legolas are about ready to chop each other's heads off. Well, depending on whether or not I beat the two of you to it. Now what is your problem? I thought you and Legolas were good friends."  
  
Aragorn's eyes darkened. He looked like Angel in full anger mode.  
  
"Aye, we are friends," he answered darkly. "I expected more of him on this matter. I knew he was drawn to you, but to take advantage of you in this manner-"  
  
"Wait a minute," Willow interrupted. "Taking advantage how?"  
  
"By pressing you with advances in your delicate state."  
  
"Delicate state?"  
  
Aragorn looked at her sadly. "You were so saddened when you discovered you could not return to your loved ones. You are lost and vulnerable and he is taking advantage of it to suit his needs," he spat out the last part.  
  
Willow stared at him for a minute. And then she burst out into laughter. It wasn't that loud laughter, but the soft no noise making laughter. After all, they still didn't want the Orcs to know they were there. But Willow was practically hysterical with mirth.  
  
Aragorn thought Legolas was trying to get into her pants. He didn't even suspect it was really the other way around. And being an overprotective man, just like Angel, Aragorn was outraged and trying to fend off the presumed nefarious intentions of the Elf. Legolas misinterpreted his anger as jealousy, thinking he has some sort of rival for Willow.  
  
It was like some bad soap opera. Something worthy of Passions, what with all the munchkins running about.  
  
The rest of the company was staring at them. Aragorn was holding her up when her laughter reduced her to keeling over.  
  
"What is so amusing?" he asked in confusion.  
  
Willow took several deep breaths, almost always followed by a squeak of laughter. Giggling she leaned over and whispered the truth in Aragorn's ear.  
  
His eyes widened. He stared at the redhead in shock. Slowly, he joined her in silent laughter. The whole ordeal was so ridiculous. Willow glanced back at the group. Legolas looked crestfallen.  
  
Stifling her laughter, she told Aragorn to go apologize to the Elf while she composed herself. Obediently the man walked over to Legolas. They had a whispered conference. Legolas was reduced to the same silent laughter. The rest of the group looked completely lost.  
  
Finally composing herself, Willow trotted over to the group.  
  
"So," she prompted Boromir. "You were talking about some white city?"  
  
Boromir smiled and opened his mouth to speak. And then:  
  
"Aha, it's this way!"  
  
The hobbits jumped up excitedly. Willow turned back to the man.  
  
"You are so finishing your story someday," she told him.  
  
Boromir bowed deeply.  
  
"As you wish, my lady."  
  
The company joined Gandalf and Frodo in front of one of the passages.  
  
"You remembered?!" exclaimed Frodo in excitement.  
  
"No," the wizard shook his head in amusement. "The air is clearer in here. When in doubt, follow your nose."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine:  
  
They walked single file as before. Gandalf in the lead and Aragorn bringing up the rear. They came into a giant hall.  
  
"Behold, Durin's city, the halls of the Moria," Gandalf informed them.  
  
"It's amazing!" Sam declared. Willow had to agree. The hall was huge, giant pillars everywhere. It's eerily beautiful.  
  
They kept walking. Presently they came across a corridor. Faint light emitted from a slightly ajar door. They walked towards it.  
  
Suddenly, Gimli broke from the pack and raced into the room.  
  
"No, oh no!" the dwarf could be heard moaning. The others followed him into the room. It was covered with bodies, just like the rest of the place. Gimli knelt before a large granite slab.  
  
Willow paused. She had been in enough mausoleums to know a tomb when she saw one. She walked over to the dwarf and wrapped her arms around him in comfort. Gimli continued to wail.  
  
"What does it say?" came Pippin's question.  
  
"'Here lies Balin, Lord of Moria'" Gandalf read. "So it is true, he is dead."  
  
Gimli cried harder. Willow rubbed his back. Tears pricked her eyes. What a horrible day.  
  
Gandalf picked something up from the floor.  
  
"It's a record," he explained. Brushing away dust, the wizard opened the book to its final pages.  
  
"'We cannot get out. They have taken the Bridge. We cannot get out. Drums- drums in the deep. They are coming.'"  
  
Willow gulped at the entry. This just got worse and worse.  
  
A huge clash brought everyone's attention to the back of the room. Pippin stood beside a well, wincing guiltily with every bang.  
  
"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf declared. "Next time, throw yourself in and save us the trouble of your stupidity!"  
  
"Hey, that's enough!" Willow interjected. She went to stand beside the hobbit.  
  
"He made a mistake," she stated evenly. "You don't have to massacre him for it. We're all scared enough as is. Don't start diminishing self- esteem as well."  
  
The wizard stared at her long and hard.  
  
"Resolve Face," she warned, pointing a finger to her face.  
  
Pippin snickered. The wizard shook his head slightly. Willow caught a bit of a smile of his face.  
  
"You will come to all's defense, even when we are against one another," he sighed. "May haps you will save all of us."  
  
A faint noise interrupted her reply. Everyone stopped. It was drumming.  
  
The men jumped into action.  
  
"Orcs," Legolas hissed.  
  
Boromir raced to the door and peered outside. An arrow embedded itself in the door, barely missing his head. Hastily, he and Aragorn set about barring the door.  
  
"They have a cave troll," Boromir laughed mirthlessly.  
  
"I knew there had to be something!" Willow shrieked. "It ain't an ogre, but it's close enough."  
  
Everyone stared at her in confusion.  
  
"Just ignore me," she instructed them. The Fellowship returned to work. The door was barred as well as it could be.  
  
Whoever was on the other side started banging against it. It wouldn't hold for long. Everyone drew his or her weapons. Willow and Gandalf pushed the hobbits behind them.  
  
"It won't hold," Aragorn warned.  
  
"Let them come!" sneered Gimli, standing atop the tomb with axes in hand. "There is still one dwarf in Moria that can fight!"  
  
The door started to come apart. Weapons and claws reached through the openings.  
  
Aragorn and Legolas let arrows lose. Shrieks could be heard from the Orcs as the arrows found their marks. Willow twirled her sword in her hand. God, she hoped she was ready.  
  
The door was slammed open. In entered a large blue creature with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was scary. And he had friends.  
  
"Hey!" Willow shouted in recognition. "Those are the nasty tower workers!"  
  
"Orcs, my lady," Gandalf informed her.  
  
The enemy charged.  
  
Willow raced about, cutting down as many Orcs that came her way. The hobbits were doing okay, Sam was getting into it. The boy was fiercely going after the Orcs.  
  
Willow kept cutting them down while keeping an eye on the hobbits. Then the troll set his sights on her.  
  
With a huge bellow, the troll charged at her. Willow freaked.  
  
She took off, stabbing Orcs as she went. She led the troll around in circles. Finally, he trapped her in a corner. It came at her. Legolas jumped in front of her, arrows striking the creature. It was stalled. The Elf wrapped his arm around Willow's waist and carried her away while the troll was fazed.  
  
Behind a minor sanctuary, Willow turned and kissed Legolas soundly on the mouth.  
  
"Thinking I love you just now," she informed him.  
  
The Elf beamed at her happily.  
  
Shrieks from the hobbits drove them out of their hiding spot.  
  
"Aragorn!" Frodo could be heard screaming.  
  
Willow raced over at his cries. Aragorn lay in an unconscious heap by Frodo. The creature obstructed much of her view. She could only see the troll lunge his lance into the hobbit.  
  
"NOOO!" she screamed. Pippin and Merry jumped on the thing's back. It jerked away from Frodo, trying to pull them off. Legolas threw arrows at it, Gimli threw axes, and Boromir and Gandalf finished off the remaining Orcs.  
  
Willow looked to Frodo. He wasn't moving. She turned back to the troll. It chucked the hobbits off its back.  
  
Willow was pissed. She gathered her magic. She didn't need a spell, this was just pure emotion. Her anger gathered at her fingertips. Electricity crackled off her body, her eyes glowed an inhuman green.  
  
The troll stopped at the sight of her. She snarled at it.  
  
The energy left her hands and barreled towards the creature. It blew a hole right through him. The troll flopped to the floor dead.  
  
Everyone stared at her. Willow raced over to where Aragorn held Frodo in his arms.  
  
"Is he. .?" Willow trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.  
  
Coughing from the hobbit answered her question. Frodo opened his eyes and stared at them.  
  
"I am all right," he assured them. "I am not hurt."  
  
Willow yanked the hobbit into her arms.  
  
"I was so scared," she murmured.  
  
"I am sorry," he replied.  
  
She laughed through her tears. "Not your fault, silly hobbit."  
  
"How?" came Boromir's question.  
  
"I think there is more to this hobbit than meets the eye," Gandalf answered.  
  
Wordlessly, Frodo lifted up his shirt and showed them a chain mail he had on underneath.  
  
"Mithril," breathed Gimli. Willow touched the armor. It was beautiful.  
  
More drumming drew their attention away from the hobbit.  
  
"We must make for the bridge," Gandalf informed.  
  
The Fellowship gathered itself together and raced out of the room. Willow kept Frodo clutched desperately in her arms.  
  
*****  
  
And they ran.  
  
The whole Fellowship raced madly for the bridge, or something. Willow wasn't entirely sure where they were headed, but the others seem to have a goal in mind.  
  
It would have been okay if only it hadn't been for the masses of Orcs that suddenly appeared everywhere they went.  
  
Willow was forced to put Frodo down mid run. The Orcs were chasing them, flying down the huge pillars of Moria. Willow threw as much magic as she could at them. It helped a little, but not much. At one point, they had the Fellowship surrounded.  
  
Willow glanced around them. She gathered her magic into her hands. She shot a look at Gandalf. He raised his staff. They were as ready as they could be.  
  
And then magic flooded the hall. Black magic, of a very evil kind. Everyone sensed it. The Orcs went running for cover.  
  
Willow was guessing that was a bad sign.  
  
"What is this?" Boromir whispered. "New devilry?"  
  
"No," answered Gandalf. "Very old."  
  
Fire and shadow cast upon the halls. Willow gulped audibly.  
  
"Is that a balrog?" she asked tentatively.  
  
Gandalf nodded.  
  
Shit.  
  
"Your weapons are of no more use here," he informed them. "Run!"  
  
And they ran.  
  
Willow herded the hobbits in front of her, pushing them along briskly. Didn't want to give the balrog a chance to catch up.  
  
Fire burned the trail behind them.  
  
Yep, definitely didn't want that thing to catch up to them.  
  
They came to a series of stairwells. None looked too sturdy. But given the options, what else could they do?  
  
They came to a gap in the stairs. Legolas leapt across easily.  
  
"My lady," he motioned.  
  
"Oh no," Willow protested. "I may be from Sunnydale, but I ain't that crazy."  
  
"Now with it lass!" Gandalf commanded, throwing her across.  
  
Willow shrieked in panic. Legolas caught her deftly and turned back for Gandalf.  
  
When the wizard landed, Willow gave him a loud smack on the arm.  
  
"Don't do that!" she admonished.  
  
The wizard grinned a sheepish apology.  
  
Arrows flew around them. Willow gazed towards the source. More Orcs, shooting at them from the rafters. Willow tossed lightning at them. The Orcs screamed as the bolts fried them alive. Teach those bastards.  
  
Next came Sam, virtually tossed across by Aragorn. Boromir clutched both Merry and Pippin in his arms and leaped across.  
  
Aragorn turned to Gimli.  
  
"No one tosses a dwarf," he protested. The dwarf squared his shoulders and leapt across the barricade. He came up a little short. Legolas latched onto his beard to keep him from falling into the abyss.  
  
"Not the beard!" he shrieked.  
  
The Elf smirked a little and hauled the dwarf to safety.  
  
A sudden rumbling shook the cavern. The steps crumbled away, stranding Frodo and Aragorn on the other side.  
  
The Fellowship panicked. They couldn't get to their friends and they had to deal with the arrows fired at them by the Orcs.  
  
Willow squared her jaw. She concentrated on the wavering steps. In her mind, she reached an invisible hand out to steady it. Sweat formed on her forehead. She shook physically from the force of holding the steps up. The steps steadied.  
  
"Careful lass," came Gandalf's warning. "Do not let your hold slip."  
  
"Not helping wizard," Willow choked out.  
  
"Frodo, lean forward," commanded Aragorn. The two strandees leaned forward, pushing the stairs forward. Boromir and Legolas tensed, preparing to catch them.  
  
The stairs creaked forward, the two jumped into the arms of their awaiting comrades. Willow let go of the stairs with a gasp. It took a lot out of her.  
  
"Hurry!" came Gandalf's command. Easy for him to say.  
  
Legolas grabbed Willow by her waist and pulled her along. She was too dizzy to make it on her own.  
  
The Fellowship raced across the bridge. The fire trailing behind them took form. The balrog reared up in rage. Gandalf turned to face it.  
  
"You cannot pass," he snarled at it. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail, flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass."  
  
The balrog had no answer. A fiery whip appeared in his hands.  
  
This was not good. Gandalf was tired; Willow had done too much magic already. She had very little left.  
  
The balrog shot his whip at the wizard. A blue glow flashed when the whip met Gandalf's magic.  
  
He didn't have much left, Willow could tell. She had to help.  
  
"You cannot pass!" Gandalf and Willow bellowed in unison. She sent out her magic. A flash of light burst out in the middle of the air. The bridge gave out under the monster. He fell. They won.  
  
Willow fell to the ground in a heap. Legolas wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to her feet.  
  
Gandalf turned to face them. Willow smiled weakly at him. They won.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of red. She couldn't warn him in time. The balrog's whip spiralled upwards and knocked the wizard off his feet.  
  
"Gandalf!" Willow screamed in panic. She tried to use magic to pull him up. Nothing. She was out of magic. She had done too much. She gazed into the wizard's eyes in shock. The wizard gazed back and understood.  
  
"Fly you fools!" he commanded. Then, he let go of the ledge. And Gandalf the Grey fell into darkness.  
  
"NOOOO!" came Frodo's heart breaking scream.  
  
Willow was aware of pulling. Legolas was pulling her up some steps, leading her to the exit. But Gandalf was left behind.  
  
"NO!" she protested, sobbing. "We can't leave him!"  
  
"We must!" came Aragorn's response.  
  
Legolas pulled her into sunlight. The Fellowship ran from exit, dropping exhausted beside a small pond.  
  
Gandalf the Grey had fallen into darkness.  
  
*****  
  
The whole company was in sorrow.  
  
Pippin lay on the ground, the force of his grief unable to keep him upright. Merry sat next to him, crying his eyes out. Sam sat alone on a rock, weeping. Gimli and Boromir stood side by side, looking on in helplessness and sorrow.  
  
Willow couldn't stop sobbing. Legolas held her in his arms. She cried into his tunic. The Elf stroked her hair.  
  
"We must move," Aragorn spoke softly.  
  
Willow turned disbelieving eyes on him.  
  
"Give them a moment's peace!" demanded Boromir, his own deep voice catching with emotion.  
  
"We cannot stay," Aragorn stated. "By nightfall, this whole area will be crawling with Orcs. We must make it to Lothlorien. Come on, Legolas get them up."  
  
The Elf paused. He looked at the weeping girl in his arms.  
  
"Go on," she whispered, drying her tears on the back of her hand. "I'll get Frodo."  
  
He looked at her, still unsure.  
  
"Go on," she prodded, pulling away from him. "You heard Aragorn, we have to get to La-La land or whatever."  
  
He smiled at her sadly.  
  
"Lothlorien," he corrected her quietly.  
  
"There too," she agreed absently, this time giving him a push in the direction of the others. Right now, all she wanted to do was to wrap herself up in the Elf, but there were more pressing matters. Her comfort would have to wait until they got to safety.  
  
The Elf gave her a parting hug before going to help Aragorn gather the others. Willow watched him trot off. Boy still had a great ass. She wanted to go jumping into his arms and start bawling anew.  
  
She turned away abruptly. She couldn't afford to start crying again, she wouldn't be able to stop. She looked for the hobbit. He was off walking by himself, as if in a trance.  
  
"Frodo?" Willow called after him questioningly.  
  
The hobbit turned at the sound of her voice. His face was streaked with tears. Willow's heart broke.  
  
She gave a slight sob and opened her arms. The hobbit ran into them and the two of them cried together.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten:  
  
They were in a forest now. It was pretty, peaceful, and calming. And Willow couldn't enjoy it. Every time she blinked, she saw Gandalf falling away from her. Falling to his death because she didn't have enough magic to save him. She let another person down.  
  
They walked in quietly; no one had words for their grief. Legolas was holding her hand as they walked. She would have enjoyed it except she wanted to hold onto the Elf and cry till her eyes dried up.  
  
Gimli and the hobbits walked ahead. The dwarf was telling the hobbits some story about an enchantress in the forest. Whatever, like that mattered. Bring on the evil enchantress. Killing something right about now sounded good.  
  
"Don't you lads worry," Gimli assured them. "I have the ears of a fox."  
  
Then he saw the arrow pointed at his face. They were surrounded by Elves, all pointing arrows at them. Willow was getting real tired of having projectiles aimed at her.  
  
Legolas had his bow up immediately. An arrow pointed at his head stopped his movement. The Elf holding the bow motioned him to lower his weapon.  
  
A flash of lightning followed by a yelp from the offending Elf drew everyone's eyes to Willow.  
  
Her hands crackled with electricity. Her eyes glowed green. The witch had had enough.  
  
Aragorn placed a calming hand on her shoulder.  
  
"It is all right," he soothed. Willow lowered her hands and her eyes slowly returned to normal. She shot their captors deathly glares. They all backed up a bit.  
  
"The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," stated one of the Elves snidely, breaking the tense silence.  
  
Gimli seethed in indignation. Willow smirked a bit.  
  
"Haldir," Aragorn whispered to the head Elf. Willow frowned. She knew what he was saying. But he was saying it in Elvish. Since when was Willow fluent in Elvish?  
  
"We must see the Lady and Celeborn. We are in need of your help," Aragorn finished.  
  
The Elf frowned. He looked at Willow in slight suspicion. She returned his gaze steadily.  
  
"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Woods," he announced finally. "She will decide what to do with you."  
  
And with that, they were ushered away.  
  
*****  
  
They were led to a city hidden deep within the forest. Like much of what she had seen in Middle Earth, the city was breathtakingly beautiful. Haldir led them into a hall.  
  
They stopped at the base of a staircase. A couple was descending it. Willow felt their magic before she could make them out. Slowly, they came into view. Two beautiful Elves, one lady one lord, both dressed in white, both glowing.  
  
"Lady Firelight," the male greeted her. "You have come to Middle Earth at last."  
  
"Yeah, it's a kick ass place," she answered numbly.  
  
The lord smiled lightly at her words and then frowned.  
  
"Ten departed from Rivendell yet only nine are before us," he stated questioningly. "Where is Gandalf? I have much desire to speak with him."  
  
Willow's eyes overflowed with tears. She stood crying silently, only Legolas's arms holding her upright. The hobbits began to weep anew.  
  
"He has fallen into shadow," the lady exclaimed softly. Willow raised her face to look at her.  
  
"The mission stands on the edge of a blade. Slip one way, and all is lost," she paused, eyes roaming over the group. She smiled slightly. "But hope remains, as long as the company is true. Come, you are weak with much toil and sorrow. Tonight you will rest safely in our city."  
  
The lady turned to her.  
  
Welcome to Lothlorien, Lady Firelight.  
  
Willow's eyes widened. A mind reader.  
  
It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done. Let his sacrifice be. Forever will we chant the name of Gandalf the Grey in our songs.  
  
Willow looked into her deep blue eyes.  
  
I am the Lady Galadriel. We will talk later.  
  
You bet we will, Willow answered.  
  
*****  
  
Willow followed Galadriel silently. The Elf had woken her from her sleep and gestured her to follow. The redhead extracted herself from Legolas's arms and followed. Lord Celeborn had given Willow her own room, but she had needed to be with her friends.  
  
She followed the Elf silently. The whole city was quiet. Everyone slept or silently lamented the loss of Gandalf.  
  
They came into a clearing. Aragorn stood waiting by a small waterfall. She looked at him questioningly but he only answered with a shrug.  
  
Galadriel motioned Willow to join her at a small pool at the waterfall. The redhead approached slowly, eyes watching the lady's every move. Galadriel poured water into the pool.  
  
"Will you look into the mirror?" she asked.  
  
"Sure," Willow answered. "What's in there?"  
  
"Things from all space and time," Galadriel answered. "No one knows what they will see. The mirror decides for you."  
  
"Why is Aragorn here?"  
  
"He is here on a hope of mine that you will bring an image of his ancestors to light," Galadriel admitted. "He has many doubts of who he is. He must realize he comes from a long line of protectors."  
  
Willow nodded. She leaned over the pool.  
  
At first she only saw her own reflection. Then the image wavered and she saw something else. Buffy's house, the living room, right after she had been sucked away.  
  
-Where is she? Spike roared.  
  
The group floundered around. Buffy got on the phone to call Giles and then Angel.  
  
Another image bounced up. Everyone arriving in Sunnydale to look for her. The LA Fang Gang and Giles with a whole bunch of Watchers. Riley appeared eventually. They poured over books. Buffy and the vampires beat up several creatures for information. Fred scanned the web. Riley made calls to the military.  
  
Time passed. Connor got larger. He was walking soon enough. Dawn grew, became more beautiful than ever. Everyone looked harried. Xander appeared lost, Anya beyond pain. Angel was frantic. He yelled a lot, especially at Lorne.  
  
Tears flowed down Willow's cheek. Gods she wished she could talk to them, let them know she was all right. Her tears continued to flow. A few hit the pool. The images wavered and then glowed.  
  
Magic bounced off the pool and took form in front of her.  
  
"What is this?" Aragorn demanded, drawing his sword.  
  
"I know not," Galadriel admitted. "This has never happened before."  
  
A cavern appeared before them. Willow approached the image slowly. Something important was about to happen.  
  
"Willow?" came a voice. A very familiar voice. Dawn, beautiful at eighteen, stepped in front of the image.  
  
"Dawnie," Willow whispered.  
  
The girl broke into a grin.  
  
"IT'S WILLOW!" she shrieked. "GUYS, I FOUND WILLOW! COME QUICKLY!"  
  
Footsteps were heard resounding off the walls. Her friends filtered into the cavern.  
  
"Red," breathed Spike in relief. He made for the redhead. Only to be stopped by an invisible wall. He pounded on it furiously.  
  
Angel's words came back to the redhead.  
  
Then we found you, perfectly safe and sad around the edges. We reached out for you, but no one could get to you. You were out of our reach forever . . .  
  
Tears flowed down her cheeks. This was it, the last time she would ever lay eyes on her friends.  
  
"I'm okay," she whispered to them. "I can't come home, but I am okay."  
  
"What do you mean you can't come home?" demanded Xander.  
  
Angel stepped forward. "Willow just hold on, we'll find a way through."  
  
"There isn't a way through," she told him through her tears. "This was all meant to be. I'm sorry I can't come home. I'll miss all of you forever, but this is what was meant to be."  
  
"NO!" came Buffy's protest. "Nothing is set in stone. We are getting you out of there."  
  
Their pleading and demands broke her heart. Willow's knees gave out from the force of her sobs. Arms encircled her. She looked up. Aragorn held her in his arms, eyes watching her carefully. She smiled at him and then turned to her friends.  
  
"I'm safe here," she assured them. "I've got some friends here who can take care of me. You could say it's in their blood."  
  
"Who the hell is that guy?" Spike demanded.  
  
"Do I know you?" was Angel's question.  
  
"He's of you," Willow answered softly. "Know that I am safe with him. He is of you."  
  
"Connor," breathed Angel. The vampire grinned. "My Connor makes it."  
  
"You all do," she whispered.  
  
"My lady," came Galadriel. "The image is wavering. You must say your farewell."  
  
"Now just hold on for one minute you pointy eared freak," Spike hissed. "Red is not saying goodbye. She's coming with us."  
  
Galadriel frowned. "This is the great poet William Exeter?"  
  
Willow laughed. "He's just a grumpy old man who can write pretty poetry."  
  
"Willow!" Dawn cried. "Don't leave. Not again."  
  
"I'm sorry," Willow answered. "I'm so sorry."  
  
The cavern faded. Other images appeared. Her friends, all assembled in Buffy's house once more. Xander and Anya sat on the couch, both simply staring forward. Buffy wandered from room to room, putting things away and then taking them out again. Giles sat in the far corner of the dining room, pouring himself drink after drink after drink. Angel sat in the kitchen, brooding away the time. Fred sat next to him, cuddling Connor to her herself, calming the agitated baby. Riley sat on the staircase, looking at the front door as if willing Willow to walk through it. Gunn and Wesley watched on helplessly as Cordelia bit her nails and muttered to herself. In her room, Dawn lay on her bed. She was sobbing and clutching a photo of the redhead to her chest. Spike sat on Willow's old bed, in her old room. There was a pink sweater laid out before him.  
  
-That lilac number. Could have eaten you right then.  
  
Spike buried his head in her sweater as blood tears rolled down his cheeks.  
  
Willow wanted to die for all the grief they felt. Slowly time passed. Her friends were able to smile again. They accepted their loss and turned their heads to other things. Marriages happened. Babies happened. Connor grew, became the Saviour. He binded the realms, made all things peaceful. They all lived happily ever after.  
  
The image slowly dimmed. Willow was left in the clearing with Aragorn still holding her up. Silence reigned.  
  
"Hope you got something out of that," Willow finally whispered to the man. She quickly extradited herself from his arms and ran back into the city. She ran fast. Soon, she came upon the room Celeborn had made for her. Slamming the door behind her, Willow fell onto the bed in tears.  
  
Her door creaked open.  
  
"My lady?" Legolas called. She lifted her head and stared at him mutely.  
  
He shut the door behind him and approached the bed.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked softly. Willow shook her head.  
  
"Can I help?"  
  
She looked at the Elf. He was always around for her. Throughout their mission, she had been drawn to him. He saved her, helped her, and generally looked out for her. And there were all those kisses. Slowly she realized the Elf loved her. She also became aware that she loved him as well. But how to say it?  
  
"Willow?" he asked, blue eyes lined with worry.  
  
She smiled at him. "That's the first time you called me Willow instead of my lady."  
  
Legolas shrugged slightly, a smile forming on his own lips.  
  
Willow sighed and got up. Wordlessly she held out her arms for the Elf. He sunk down beside her and pulled her into his embrace. She buried her face into his neck and closed her eyes.  
  
"I love you," came his whisper.  
  
"I know," she replied. Willow raised her head to look him in the eyes. He leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips. Willow sighed in contentment. She pushed up against him, turning them both around as one. She lay down on her back, pulling him with her.  
  
No more tears were shed that night.  
  
*****  
  
Willow woke with the sun shining on her face. She moaned slightly and buried her head into soft blond hair. That woke her right up. She didn't have blond hair.  
  
Willow opened both eyes slowly. She turned her head slightly. Legolas lay asleep next to her, arm draped across her stomach. The events of the previous night came back to her. Oddly, she wasn't at all embarrassed or even self-conscious. She was content, not happy after all she saw last night, but content here with her Elf. Her Elf, her Legolas, her love.  
  
Smiling, she gazed at him. He eventually opened his eyes and looked at her.  
  
"Good morning," she whispered.  
  
"Good morning," he answered. His hand came up to stroke her cheek. "Never leave me."  
  
"Never," she consented.  
  
Happy, the Elf planted a kiss on her lips and gathered her up in his arms. Willow lay in his embrace happily.  
  
*****  
  
They were leaving Lothlorien.  
  
The Fellowship was assembled by the shore of the Great River. The Elves of Lothlorien gathered to see them off. There were three boats supplied to them. All three were crammed pack with food and various other supplies.  
  
Lady Galadriel drew Willow to the side.  
  
"Lady Firelight, I have a gift for you," the Elf presented a crystal bracelet. "A protective charm. It will always let you know where your love is."  
  
"Love?"  
  
"I am not as blind as you think," Galadriel shot a glance at Legolas. "Your lover, Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood."  
  
Willow blushed slightly.  
  
"Do not be embarrassed," Galadriel admonished. "The love he has for you is truly beautiful. Your love for him is likewise. This charm will help you find him if you are ever lost."  
  
Willow thanked her and turned back to her company.  
  
"Lady," a hand on her arm stopped her. "Do not wait too long to tell him that you love him. It is something you both need.".  
  
Willow stared at her long and hard. Finally, she smiled and thanked the Elf once more. She turned around and rejoined her group.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven:  
  
They made their way down the river slowly. Willow sat rather uncomfortably in a boat between Legolas and Gimli. The Elf was rowing while her and the dwarf sat idly. Willow had offered to help row, but was quickly talked down. The men would have nothing of it. Willow guessed the feminist revolution had yet to take hold in Middle Earth. Pippin and Merry were next to them with Boromir at the helm. The man was worried by something. Willow had wanted to talk to him at Lothlorien, but she had been preoccupied to say the least. Frodo and Sam were in Aragorn's boat. The Ringbearer had the saddest look on his face. Willow figured Galadriel and her magic pool had something to do with it. That thing seemed to relish in putting people off.  
  
Willow was pretty sure she didn't like traveling. It was boring. Nothing to do but keep moving. It would probably help if she knew where they were heading, but then again, the men kept all such plans to themselves. She really missed the old days on the Hellmouth. There, she didn't have to go looking for trouble; someone usually imported it for her. It was easier to have the evil come to you rather than to march around in circles to get at him. But then again, maybe she was giving it too much thought. Lord knows she had a problem with the over thinking. Cordelia always used to criticize her for it . . .  
  
No, she didn't want to think of home. Funny, she had begun to accept her place here. It was easier knowing she would be stuck here before she had seen her friends. They eventually got past it, but not for years. Willow wasn't looking forward to years of missing her loved ones. At least she had her hobbits, and her Elf. Heck, she even had her own human Angel. And let's not forget her Elf.  
  
Willow shot him a quick look. He was rowing but not really paying attention to what he was doing. His eyes were on the shores. Willow understood his preoccupation. There was something off over there, but she didn't know what.  
  
Legolas caught her staring at him and offered her a smile. Willow returned it, blushing only slightly. She turned back around to face the front. Gimli was bored. Dwarves were too small to be effective rowers, so like Willow he had nothing to do. At the moment, he was idly flicking at the water. One of his flicks landed too hard and a few drops of water landed on Pippin's head. The hobbit turned around and glared at the dwarf.  
  
And so began the Great Water Fight.  
  
*****  
  
They had just passed the Argonath, two giant statues of kings supposedly guarding the way. Willow had giggled. They reminded her of Giles and Wesley. She wished she could have shared with Legolas or one of the human men, but they were still rather angry with their companions. Though they had not participated, the rowers had ultimately been the losers in the Great Water Fight. Legolas was still shaking water out of his long blonde hair and still rather cross. He kept shooting his passengers dirty looks, which only set them off in peals of laughter. Willow couldn't help herself. He looked so sexy when flustered. Of course, he looked sexy all the time, but whatever.  
  
Eventually, Aragorn called everyone over to the bank. They were setting up camp for the night. Willow wasn't too sure about that, after all, the shore gave her Wiggins. She really wanted to talk to him about that, but first Aragorn and Gimli had a minor spat that ended in the dwarf leaving sputtering indignantly. But apparently, Legolas had the same idea as her.  
  
"There is an ever growing dark presence on my mind," the Elf informed him. "We should leave now."  
  
Aragorn looked doubtful.  
  
"He's right," Willow piped up. "We should leave. Something's wrong here. My spidey sense is tingling."  
  
"Your what is tingling?" Aragorn repeated.  
  
"Pop culture references are pretty lost on you guys huh?" Willow rolled her eyes. "I can feel something's off. Legolas is right, let's bail."  
  
"Where's Frodo?" Sam's voice interrupted the debate. Willow spun around at that. She scanned the area, not spotting a glimpse of the hobbit. She did notice that Boromir was gone as well. And for reasons unknown to her, that scared the witch very much.  
  
"We better find them," she instructed, jogging off into the woods. She heard noises behind her as the others scrambled to follow.  
  
*****  
  
Willow jumped through the trees, trying to find any sight of Frodo or Boromir. Every second that passed just served to increase her anxiety. She didn't quite understand why she was getting so worked up for it. But there was a sense of urgency in the air.  
  
She could hear or make out the others. The whole Fellowship was out and about in the forest. Willow's heart fell slightly at the idea. Isn't that how all horror movies start out? Our heroes plunge into the wooded unknown and end up slaughtered by some freak with a chainsaw. Only the knowledge that chainsaws didn't exist in these times helped to calm her nerves.  
  
She still didn't catch sight of either of her quarry. Willow slumped against a tree, defeated. She was going to have to use magic and run the risk of Saruman finding her. But considering the fact that the Ringbearer was AWOL, Willow was calling for extenuating circumstances.  
  
Then she felt it. Like all the other times, it was like being hit with a ton of bricks. Black magic literally crawled up her arms. She could feel the essence of it all over her. It made her sick to her stomach.  
  
Frodo. Frodo had put on the ring. That wasn't the smartest thing he's ever done. Willow tried to struggle to her feet. She had to find the hobbit, make sure he was okay.  
  
A blazing heat struck her suddenly. The forest became unbearably hot. Willow slumped back down against the tree. Sweat formed on her forehead. She couldn't see straight. Her vision blurred and unfocused, leaving the redhead disoriented.  
  
Then, something came through the haze. The eye. That big blazing red eye that freaked the hell out of Boromir. It was large and cat-like, creating a sense of foreboding in the beholder. It neared her. Willow heard whispers start up around her. She couldn't quite make them out, but they were getting louder.  
  
"Lady Firelight," it hissed at her. "Now I see you for who you really are."  
  
It rushed at her. Willow could feel it trying to rip her mind apart. It was in her mind, he was in her mind. And then something clicked for the redhead.  
  
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Willow shrieked at the apparition. The eye flew by her and disappeared from sight.  
  
"Willow!" came the shout from beyond the trees. Seconds later, Legolas and Gimli rushed to her side. Willow became aware that she was sitting on the ground, weapons cast aside.  
  
"What is it?" Legolas asked, checking her over for injuries.  
  
"I'm okay," she assured them. "I'm fine."  
  
"You were screaming," Gimli protested.  
  
"Frodo!" she sprang to her feet. Willow hastily gathered her weapons. "He put on the ring. I felt it."  
  
"Why would he do such a thing?" Legolas demanded.  
  
"I don't know," she shrugged. "But we have to find him. Sauron felt it too. That's who I was screaming at."  
  
"Sauron was here!" Gimli immediately brought his axe up.  
  
"No, but I saw the eye," she explained. "It came at me. Wanted in my head."  
  
"Did it hurt you?" Legolas demanded, eyes flashing.  
  
"No, but he knows me," Willow offered.  
  
"So, now he knows we have the Lady Firelight with us," Gimli brushed this off. "Let him try to do anything about it."  
  
"No!" Willow shook her head. "I didn't say he knew about me. Sauron obviously knew I had been called like way before. That's why the Ringwraiths were after Frodo and me. But Sauron, when he sent his eye, I figured it out. He knows me."  
  
"You mean . . ."  
  
"I mean, if he know me, I know him," Willow gave them a grim look.  
  
"Which means, I met Sauron four thousand years ago. On the Hellmouth."  
  
*****  
  
But of course the forest was crawling with Orcs. Explained the wiggins, but pissed her off. She really hated these guys. And the best news was that these Orcs seemed to be some sort of new breed. They looked like those things she had seen in the tower. Willow took the leap and assumed Saruman made them. Willow hated that wizard. If she ever got her hands on him . . .  
  
And they were fighting. There were so many of them. And they just rushed on by them. Whoever wasn't cut down made for deeper into the woods. Which meant they were after something specific. Willow had a pretty good idea what that was.  
  
Through the sounds of battle, another noise rose above the rest. And resounding blast.  
  
"The horn of Gondor," Gimli breathed in wonder.  
  
Willow's heart constricted. Boromir had told her the story behind that horn. Warriors sounded it when they were in trouble. And if Boromir was in trouble, they better get to him fast.  
  
Willow turned away from the battle and turned to the sounds of the horn. She raced desperately towards it and was stuck when it stopped. She glanced around her, trying to find any sign of her friend. She had about given up when she heard fighting start again. The redhead ran further into the woods.  
  
She came upon Aragorn in the middle of the fight with a massive Orc. She would have helped but her eyes fell on a lone figure on the ground. Boromir lay wounded, three arrows in his chest. Willow raced over to the fallen man. Tears blurred her vision as she checked on the severity of his wounds. His hand stopped her investigation of the arrows.  
  
"Leave them," he gasped to her. "We both know nothing can be done."  
  
Willow burst into tears. She could do nothing. One of the arrows had pierced his heart. His lungs were filling with blood as they spoke. She couldn't save him, no magic she knew could save him. Boromir was dying.  
  
She heard Aragorn settle on his other side. She turned around and saw the now beheaded figure of the Orc. Good, she had a feeling this was his work. Aragorn checked the wounds as well, being stopped by Boromir also. Willow lifted up the man's head and placed it in her lap. Her fingers ran through his dark blonde locks and Willow felt her heart break. Another friend fallen, another friend lost.  
  
"Frodo," Boromir rasped. "Where's Frodo?"  
  
"I let him go," Aragorn replied, placing a calming hand on the man's shoulder. Willow gave him a look at that.  
  
"The Ringbearer's fate is no longer in our hands," he explained to both of them.  
  
"I tried to take it from him," Boromir confessed. "I tried-"  
  
"It doesn't matter," Willow interrupted him. "None of that matters. You are a good man and you will die with your friends beside you."  
  
"I do not deserve such a privilege," the dying man moaned.  
  
"Well I'm the great Lady Firelight and I say you do," Willow countered. "And I wouldn't argue with me. I'm quite the big shot around here."  
  
Boromir gave a little laugh at that. He sobered quickly.  
  
"The little ones!" he groaned in panic. "They took the little ones!"  
  
Willow's heart constricted once more. She had momentarily forgotten about the hobbits. She raised scared eyes to Aragorn.  
  
"We will get them back," he promised both. "Worry not."  
  
"The white city," Boromir continued.  
  
"I will never let it fall," Aragorn swore.  
  
"Me neither," Willow added. Her hands stroked his forehead. "And we'll tell everyone all about Boromir of Gondor, so brave of heart he died trying to protect the lives of innocents."  
  
Boromir gave them both grateful smiles.  
  
"My lady I would have fought the world for you," he pledged. "And my captain, my king, I would have followed you."  
  
Both humans nodded. Aragorn handed Boromir his sword. Willow watched helplessly as the man faded from this world. And then suddenly, it was all over. Boromir was dead.  
  
Fresh tears streamed down her face. Aragorn kissed the top of the man's head.  
  
"Be at peace, son of Gondor," he whispered to his fallen comrade. That just made Willow cry harder. Arms encircled her from behind. Legolas. The Elf had found his way to them. Willow turned around and buried her face into his chest. Her body was racked with heaving sobs for her friend. Legolas hugged her, his own tears flowing freely. Gimli approached, head bowed in respect. Aragorn pushed his eyelids shut and sat back on his heels, tears on his face as well.  
  
And so Boromir of Gondor ended his part in this tale.  
  
*****  
  
The River was oddly calm now. Maybe even water had respect for the parcel it carried. That great warrior cut down in the heat of battle.  
  
Willow watched tiredly as the others placed Boromir into one of the canoes. She had insisted on cleaning him up. She pulled the leaves from his hair, washed the blood off his face, and combed every lock into place. He looked quite handsome, quite peaceful. And quite dead.  
  
Legolas kept shooting her worried looks. And for good reason, the redhead had been silent since the death of Boromir. Willow knew that he worried but couldn't do much about it. So much had gone wrong in the last hour. Boromir died, Frodo and Sam ran away, Sauron was someone from her past, and the Orcs had taken Merry and Pippin. Not exactly the high expectations they had started the journey off with.  
  
She sat perched on a rock, watching as Gimli and Aragorn loaded the canoe up with the helmet and weapons of all those Boromir had slain. It was his honour, his tribute, or something. Willow didn't feel like it mattered. All it represented was death, so much death in such a little time. For such a tiny little thing.  
  
She turned her head forward, eyes going to the river. She could make out the canoe of the hobbits, slowly making its way to the other shore. Both turned around every now and then, to cast a look back at her. She would stare back emotionlessly. She knew they were doing what they had to do, but she couldn't muster any comfort for them at the moment. Too much hurt still ached in her chest.  
  
The canoe bearing their fallen friend was placed into the water and then cast off. It floated past her and she looked down. He looked almost angelic in the morning sun, so peaceful. It could almost be as if he was sleeping, but she knew he wasn't. Boromir was gone, just like so many others she had loved.  
  
She continued to follow the canoe with her eyes. She watched until it became a speck on the horizon, floating until it finally fell over the edge of the waterfall. And she continued to watch a little while after that. In her heart, she bade farewell to the man she had become to think of as a friend. It saddened her to think that she might be saying more in the days to come.  
  
Splashing from behind brought her attention back to the others. She turned and watched as Legolas tried to push a canoe into the water.  
  
"We must hurry!" the Elf urged them. "Frodo and Sam have already reached the Eastern shore."  
  
She turned back to looking across the water. Sure enough, the hobbits had abandoned their canoe and were taking off into the forest. She did nothing about it. Neither did Aragorn.  
  
Legolas stilled, exchanging a glance with Gimli.  
  
"You mean not to follow," he stated in a slightly confused voice.  
  
"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," Aragorn replied sadly.  
  
"So it was all in vain," Gimli muttered dejectedly. "The Fellowship has failed."  
  
And maybe it had, but then again, nothing was over until the fat lady sang. Willow's eyes looked deeply into the forest on the Eastern shore. She could make out the disappearing hobbits. She closed her eyes and concentrated.  
  
-Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee. Be safe my friends and come back to us safely. Or I'm going to be seriously ticked with you two.  
  
She heard their laughter in her mind, feeling the ease her communication had given them. A small smile curved her lips as she slowly opened her eyes. The other three were standing rather sullenly around. Legolas was actually pouting.  
  
She laughed and hopped off her rock.  
  
"We haven't failed boys," she rallied them. "We're still here and we're still together. And that counts for something."  
  
"The lady is right," Aragorn enthused. "As long as we remain true to one another, we have not failed. Come, we will not leave Pippin and Merry to torment and death."  
  
He turned around, sheathing a dagger and pulling some supplies.  
  
"Leave behind everything that is not necessary," he instructed. "Pack light. Let's go hunt some Orc."  
  
Gimli let out a bellow of spirit, racing off after the man. Willow laughed, reaching to scoop up some daggers and her sword. Legolas helped her bundle up some blankets and such, tying things together and making them easier to carry.  
  
He had been ready to rush off after their friends, but a hand on his arm stopped him.  
  
"Yes Willow?" he asked, eyes concerned immediately. Willow smiled and gave him the sweetest kiss she could muster.  
  
"I love you," she whispered to him. His face lit up and he kissed her back.  
  
"I love you," he returned.  
  
"We all know that you two buffoons! Now hurry up! You can slobber over each over later!"  
  
They jerked apart at the declaration. Their eyes went off to the hills, watching Aragorn and Gimli laugh at them from a distance. Willow blushed and then stuck her tongue out at them. Legolas was stunned.  
  
"He really does have the ears of a fox."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Title: The Lady of the Rings  
  
Author: eena_angel2001  
  
Email: igrewal@sfu.ca or eena_angel@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: R  
  
Category: BTVS/LOTR crossover  
  
Pairing: Willow/Other: Willow/Legolas  
  
Spoilers: Wrecked for BTVS, LOTR movie  
  
Summary: crossover between Buffy and Lord of the Rings movie  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to any of the characters. Joss Whedon owns BTVS, Tolkien owns LOTR  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
Willow fidgeted. She bit her lip, turning her eyes side-to-side, and frowning deeply at the sight before her. Her fingers went to play with the hem of her shirt, and she began bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her green eyes went to the dwarf beside her, a slightly confused look on her face. Finally she had to do it. She had to ask.  
  
"What's he doing?" she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, trying to be as discreet as possible. Gimli huffed and shrugged, peering at Aragorn in confusion equal to her own. Willow shook her head, leaning forward to try and discern exactly what Aragorn was doing.  
  
"He is tracking," came the whispered reply in her ear. Willow jumped, relaxing only slightly when she saw Legolas at her side. She blushed a bit, both at his nearness and the fact that he overheard her.  
  
"You know, that Elf hearing is an unfair advantage," she muttered under her breath, sending the Elf a bit of a sour look. He merely smiled at her, hand patting her back before he turned attentively to Aragorn.  
  
Willow sighed, feeling she would have appreciated more of a pat on the back from the Elf. A full-fledge make out session was what she would have preferred actually, and they could probably get away with it. Aragorn was far too busy doing whatever he was doing to pay much attention to his companions. Of course, since they were trying to track their friends, maybe it would be productive for him to get up and actually start the tracking.  
  
The redhead huffed a bit, edging a bit closer to the man, wide eyes taking in his form. Aragorn didn't even register her presence, well in no way she knew of. He just stayed where he was, doing his thing, which she couldn't quite figure out.  
  
"Why are you doing that?" she finally asked loudly, frowning down at Aragorn. The man looked up from his position of lying on the ground with his ear pressed against the earth. He seemed a bit puzzled, holding up a hand to stay her questions as he sought . . . something. But if he thought he could figure out where the Orcs had taken the hobbits by trying to be one with the earth, maybe he was finally starting to lose it. All the stress of being the leader of a failed fellowship and losing more than half the company, it was bound to have an effect on a person.  
  
"He is a Ranger," Legolas reminded her. "He is tracking the Orcs and the hobbits."  
  
"Are you telling me he can hear-"  
  
"They have changed direction," Aragorn interrupted, rising to his feet and brushing the dirt off his hands. He looked to his companions, a frown marring his features.  
  
"They are heading straight to Isengard with their load," he muttered, glaring off into the horizon. "Straight to Saruman."  
  
"And that's surprising because?" Willow prompted with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Why would they head all the way back around to Isengard when Mordor is where the ring should be headed?" Aragorn shrugged. "Something is not quite balanced on the side of our foes. Something is amiss."  
  
"Amiss?" Willow arched an eyebrow at the man. "You got all that from trying to be one with the earth?"  
  
Gimli snickered at that. Aragorn smirked at bit at her, nodding his head towards the horizon.  
  
"Come," he ordered, trotting away. "We must go."  
  
"Go?" Willow repeated, slowly following the man. "Does that mean running again? Because I'm so unimpressed with that."  
  
"We must hurry," was all he added before taking off in a full run. Willow glared after his retreating form, stamping her foot.  
  
"I don't run this much!" she whined. Legolas only gave her a slight kiss before trotting off after Aragorn. She was left standing there with Gimli, a sour look on her face.  
  
"I'm really starting to hate those two."  
  
Gimli only grunted, hefting his axe a bit before running after the first two. Willow rolled her eyes before taking up a light jog to catch up with her friends. For the umpteenth time since her arrival in this land, Willow wondered why she couldn't have been transported to a time that had automobiles. Or at least a bicycle or something.  
  
She wasn't made to do this much running.  
  
*****  
  
They had made it far, with very little rest. Willow slumped against Legolas as they stopped once again. Aragorn had stopped in the middle of his trek, falling to the floor in one full swoop. Willow skidded to a stop to avoid hitting Legolas full on. The Elf put out a hand to stop her, studying Aragorn in curiosity as the man searched the earth. The redhead keeled over, breathing hard with the Elf trying to hold her upright.  
  
"I. Don't. Run. This. Much," she gasped, glaring at him a bit. Stupid Elf, with all his breath and not winded at all. Not even sweating while Willow here was mopping sweat off her forehead. Gimli was in the same boat as her, stumbling up behind the whole lot of them. The dwarf looked about ready to collapse.  
  
Aragorn also wasn't winded. In fact, he was fine, just like Legolas. Must be that whole Ranger deal. So not happy with either the man or the Elf. If they insisted on running this much, then maybe one of them should carry her or something. Because she sure as hell didn't agree with it.  
  
"Can't we just stop for like two minutes, or days?" she asked feebly. Legolas just gave her a smile, but said nothing. She just grumbled, turning to plead with Aragorn, but he wasn't paying attention to her.  
  
Instead, he stayed on the ground, examining things there. He straightened after a bit, handing something wordlessly over to Willow. The redhead accepted it with confusion, eyes going to the tiny pendant in her hand. She recognized the green leaves and gold lining immediately. They all had one just like it, on the robes given to them by Galadriel.  
  
"The hobbits," she choked out. Aragorn nodded, turning his head to look out over the landscape.  
  
"Thrown off no doubt," Legolas surmised. "These pendants do not fall off lightly."  
  
"Which means they are alive, for now," Aragorn continued, still looking around him. "Saruman most likely asked for them to be taken alive. They are safe until the Orcs get them to Isengard."  
  
Willow sighed, looking forlornly at the pendant in her hands. Her finger traced over the leaves carefully as she gave thought to the friends she had lost mere days before. She had started this trip off with all four of her hobbits, and now she was without one of them. Two she would not meet until the very end, but two more were in dire danger. And the only thing she could do now was to try and save them.  
  
"So we stop them before then," Willow interjected. "Which means I shut up about the running and just carry on as fast as my legs will take me."  
  
Aragorn favoured her with a warm smile.  
  
"Exactly that my lady," he nodded, pointing to the land around them. "They have taken them through the land of Rohan. We must follow."  
  
"What's in Rohan?" Willow asked, starting a slow walk to join Aragorn.  
  
"It is the land of the horse masters," Gimli offered, huffing as he hobbled to join his companions. "Proud people, finest bred horses in all of Middle Earth. Or so I'm told. Dwarves and horses do not exactly go together."  
  
Willow gave a little laugh, the image of the dwarf floundering around on a horse coming to her mind. Legolas snickered beside her, his dancing eyes letting her know he was thinking of the same thing. Gimli stared hard at the both of them before nudging past them in a huff.  
  
"Well, what are we waiting for?" he bellowed, starting down the rocky hill. "Those Orcs won't catch themselves."  
  
Willow shook her head, swallowing her moan of dismay before clasping Legolas's hand and running off down the hill in pursuit of the phantom Orc trail.  
  
*****  
  
And on and on with the running. Hours turned into days very quickly, all at a fast paced step. They stopped only in the dead of the night, falling to whatever shelter they could find. Aragorn spent much time kneeling on the floor and trying to hear anything that would lead them to the Orcs.  
  
Willow was very glad for these brief breaks, basking in them whenever she could. Her very many years on the Hellmouth had made her perfectly adept at running, but for such a long time? Back home she usually only had to run for a maximum of an hour or two before Buffy would come and save her. Too bad that wasn't an option here.  
  
Did you know that Elves sleep with their eyes open? She hadn't known that, but had very quickly found out. It had scared the hell out of her to see Legolas like that. She had opened her eyes, falling out of sleep rather suddenly. The fire had still been going, Gimli snoring contentedly beside it. Aragorn was up for the guard and she thought that Legolas was too. But he wasn't moving, or even breathing that noticeably. And he didn't even flinch when she neared him.  
  
Aragorn had explained to her that he was sleeping before she had the opportunity to freak out. He had seemed surprise that she didn't know that particular fact, something that made her blush. She wondered how long and how much her other friends knew about her and the Elf. She thought she had been all discreet about it, but hell, everyone knew. But whatever, she figured Aragorn knew what that felt like. After all, everyone knew about him and Arwen, but then again, those two were so bad at hiding it. Maybe she and Legolas were too.  
  
Anyway, the sleeping thing was creepy. She didn't like that glass eyed look on her Elf. Figuring there was no point in really pretending anymore, she curled up next to him, worriedly watching him for a bit before falling into sleep.  
  
She awoke to breakfast and knowing smirks from Gimli and Aragorn. You know, for warriors and princes and the like, they were awful immature about some things. All this winking and the smirking, she guessed boys would be boys no matter what time frame you were in.  
  
"How come you do that when you sleep?" she asked Legolas once they had started trekking again. He looked at her in confusion, taking his eyes off the horizon for once.  
  
"Do what?" he asked in reply.  
  
"That open eye thing," she clarified, jogging a bit to keep pace with him. He smiled and shrugged.  
  
"Elves do not close their eyes when they sleep," he explained. "We do not need to as it isn't really sleep. Just rest."  
  
"Oh," well, it hadn't really answered her question, but whatever. Probably not the most important thing going on at the moment anyway. She put her hand inside her cloak, grasping the pendant there slightly. Her thoughts turned away from the trek to the hobbits once more. She knew where Merry and Pippin were for the time being, and she also knew that they would be safe until they reached Isengard.  
  
But she had no such guarantee for Frodo or Sam. Not for the first time she questioned her decision to let them go without following. Maybe they should have split up and followed each pair of hobbits. Maybe that way would have been better and someone would be with Frodo and Sam. Lord knows what was happening to them right now . . .  
  
Willow gave a little squeal when Legolas jerked her arm, pulling her out of her reverie. She felt herself being tugged and stumbled along with it, mouth making protesting noises that Legolas silenced with a hand. He pulled her to a small shelter, Aragorn and Gimli joining them.  
  
"Riders," the Elf explained calmly, arm pulling Willow down and still. "Men, they look like riders of Rohan."  
  
"Where?" Willow asked, trying to crane her neck for a look. Legolas smiled at her, pulling her down once more.  
  
"They are there," he whispered amusedly. "Trust me. They should be upon us in a little bit."  
  
"How did you . . . Elvish sight," she answered her question with a roll of her eyes. "You know, you seem to have a lot of those superior senses. How come you only mention them now?"  
  
"You never asked before," he replied innocently. The redhead blinked, turning an astounded face to her other companions.  
  
"That sounded a little like lip," she giggled. "I'm a bad influence on all of you."  
  
"They near," Aragorn whispered, hand going to shush her. Willow frowned at that hand, but keeping quiet as her ears picked up the sounds of approaching horses. Ooh, horses. They could use horses. Because humans can only run so far on their own volition. And Willow was pretty much near the end of her running.  
  
Legolas covered her head as the company swept by them, dust going flying up around them. Willow ducked into his arms, coughing slightly as all the dust came up into her face.  
  
"Riders of Rohan," Aragorn affirmed, watching them pass. He gave them all one look and nodded in the direction of the riders. Willow frowned, not sure that it would be a good idea but whatever. It was already done, Aragorn jumping out and calling for their attention. The others scrambled out after him, looking at the mounted warriors in curiosity.  
  
Not surprisingly they were surrounded, all kinds of pointy, sharp weapons pointed at them. Normally, this would have made her nervous, but during her short stay here, Willow had become accustomed to it. It seemed that all anyone ever did in Middle Earth was point sharp weapons at others. A person just had to learn to discern whether the wielder of the weapon was in a receptive and cautious mood, or a jabby killing mood.  
  
"A dwarf, an Elf, and two humans," one, the leader she was assuming, spoke. "What business have you in Rohan?"  
  
"We come as friends," Aragorn was quick to reply. The man snorted.  
  
"There are no more friends left in Middle Earth," he muttered. "Only enemies and spies."  
  
"We are not spies," Aragorn protested, stepping forward in earnest.  
  
"Who are you?" the man asked sternly.  
  
"Tell me your name," Gimli spoke up. "And then I'll let you know mine."  
  
Willow wanted to tell the dwarf that this was not one of the best times to be testing his limits. Leader guy's eyes bulged and he turned a glare on the dwarf. Willow resisted the urge to gulp audibly or to show any sign of fear as the man jumped off his horse and approached.  
  
"I could have you dead with a wave of my hand," the man threatened, bringing his right hand to his sword. Legolas reacted instantly, arrow to bow and pointed at the man's head in an instant.  
  
"You would be dead before you even dropped that hand," Legolas threatened. Willow flinched when the other riders advanced, feeling some spears poke her in the back. She felt a little anger towards her Yummy Elf. With one move he had turned the strange riders from cautious wielding to jabby killing wielding. If he wasn't so hot, she might have held it against him.  
  
"Boys," she started off through clenched teeth. "Let's not fight. I don't think it's going to be all that productive."  
  
Leader guy's eyes fell on her in that instant and Willow saw his eyes flicker strangely. She looked back at him nervously, flinching again when one of the riders poked her a bit too hard. Aragorn took the distraction and put a reassuring hand on Legolas's arm.  
  
"Willow is right," the man stated firmly, pushing the bow down slowly. "We did not come here to fight."  
  
Everyone eased up a bit, leader guy pushing back, but eyes never leaving Willow. Legolas frowned at the man, standing rather protectively in front of the redhead. Willow just shot her gaze between Aragorn and leader guy, waiting for some sort of resolution to come about.  
  
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Aragorn started, nodding towards his companions. "This is Gimli, son of Gloin and Legolas, of Mirkwood."  
  
Leader guy nodded, raising his eyebrows rather obviously in Willow's direction.  
  
"My sister," Aragorn was quick to reply. "The Lady Willow."  
  
Willow scrunched up her nose a bit, not liking the Lady bit. She was very nervous for some reason. She thought leader guy would so see through Aragorn's lie. After all, not like they looked a thing alike. And why would a man bring his sister out with him, along with a dwarf and an Elf, to traipse across Rohan?  
  
"Sister?" leader guy repeated. See? Didn't buy it for a second.  
  
"And who might you be?" Legolas asked him, stepping up to the front. Leader guy straightened, looking to his gathered men. He waved a hand and the riders finally backed off. Willow let out a sigh of relief as the spears were removed from her back. The redhead licked her lips, going to stand behind Aragorn.  
  
"I am Eomer," leader introduced himself. "Nephew of the king of Rohan. But Rohan is no longer a friendly place for anyone, not even blood. Saruman has poisoned the land and those not willing to follow have been banished."  
  
"Like you?" Willow couldn't help but ask. Eomer turned his head sharply at the sound of her voice, nodding hesitantly when he laid eyes on her.  
  
"Yes, and the rest of us," he motioned to the men surrounding him. "Some two thousand strong. We have nothing to do but patrol the lands, killing the enemy where we can. The king has been poisoned, and we are banished from his sight."  
  
"We are looking for our friends," Aragorn offered. "Two of them, they had been taken by a band of Orcs."  
  
Willow noticed immediately how Eomer came to attention at the word "Orc". She approached cautiously, looking him right in the eye.  
  
"Have you seen them?" she asked, a slight quiver to her voice. Eomer looked troubled, failing to meet her eyes fully.  
  
"There was a band of Orcs," he revealed. "We came upon them in the night."  
  
"Did you see our friends?" Gimli pressed. "You couldn't have mistaken them for Orcs. They're hobbits. About this high."  
  
"They would have looked like children to you," Aragorn continued. Eomer exchanged looks with his riders, looks Willow didn't like at all. He looked guilty.  
  
"You didn't," she whispered, tears threatening her eyes. "You couldn't have mistaken them. They're only about three feet tall!"  
  
"We slew all that were there," Eomer confessed, no longer meeting her eyes at all. "We burned the bodies, just over that rise."  
  
The four companions turned, seeing the puff of smoke emerging off to their left. Willow bit her lip, trying to ward off the fear she was feeling. Panicking would do neither her nor the hobbits any good.  
  
Eomer nodded at his men, waving them forward. Willow watched soundlessly as two horses were brought forth, Eomer presenting Legolas and Aragorn with the reigns.  
  
"We can lend you these," Eomer offered, a hint of compassion in his voice. "Hopefully they were fare you better than they did their previous owners. I hope your friends are all right."  
  
"Where . . ."  
  
"To the north," Eomer answered her unfinished question. "To seek out more enemies if we can find them. I pray your journey ends well my lady."  
  
"You too," she mumbled, following Legolas as he moved her over to a horse. She waited as he jumped up, allowing him to pull her up behind him. With numbness in her bones, she wrapped her arms around the Elf and tuned out all other stimuli. Her eyes went to the smoke rising from the Orcs bodies. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest as she watched the smoke curl up in the air, fading up into the sky.  
  
She thought of Merry and Pippin and prayed.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen  
  
It reeked something awful on that hill.  
  
Willow clutched at Legolas, bringing herself closer to the Elf. She wanted to bury her face in his back, to not have to see what lay ahead. There was this horrible sinking feeling in her stomach, one she didn't like at all. Desperately she prayed that her hobbits were all right. Though, it seemed not all that likely right now. There were tears threatening in her eyes as she thought on the guilty look on Eomer's face. It hadn't served to increase her hope in the least.  
  
They all stopped, Legolas leaping off the horse in a graceful movement. She waited for him to turn to her, helping her to the ground carefully. He paused, horrified face staring at the sight before them before he turned to her. She grasped his hand in hers, her eyes going to the object of their attention.  
  
The smouldering remains of the Orcs that took her friends. Willow looked at the burnt pile with distaste in her eyes. The redhead really, really hated Orcs. They were horrible creatures and they deserved this. But if her friends got caught up in the same fate as them well . . . Willow wasn't quite sure what she would do, but it wouldn't be pretty.  
  
Not in the least.  
  
She heard the others behind her, waiting patiently for them to start sifting through the heap of bodies because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it. It smelled bad, and looked icky. Besides, Willow had had enough of bodies enough in her life.  
  
Gimli was the first to reach it, using his axe to push aside various body parts, looking for anything. Her stomach churned at the sight of arms and heads being tossed aside carelessly, but still she wouldn't turn her head away. She watched, still holding onto Legolas's hand, feeling colder and colder as the minutes ticked by. Aragorn paced off to the side, waiting on the dwarf as well.  
  
A mournful cry from Gimli broke her heart. She didn't even turn to see what the dwarf held up for them to see, only hearing him mutter something about belts. She spun around, throwing herself completely into her Elf's arms. She buried her face in his chest, tears starting to fall down her cheeks as she mourned for her friends. Soft words from above caused her tears to increase, the prayer from Legolas almost too much to bear.  
  
A kick and roar of rage was Aragorn's contribution to the grieving. Willow gave a gasp at the sound of his voice, ringing loud and clear across the sky. It horrifying in its rage and heart-breaking in the final note, trailing off into nothing.  
  
Willow's hand went inside her cloak, clutching at the pendant they had found only a few days ago. She had so much hope back then, and now there was nothing left. Her friends were gone, just adding to the ever- growing list of fallen comrades. Her heart was aching in her chest and her throat hurt from all the crying she was doing.  
  
She was so caught up in her grief she didn't even hear Aragorn's first words. The redhead lifted her head, rubbing absently at the tears on her face as she turned to regard her friend.  
  
"What?" she demanded.  
  
"A hobbit lay here," he repeated for her, louder than before. "And the other here."  
  
He pointed to the ground, waving his hand over the land before him. Willow frowned, disentangling herself from her Elf and making her way to stand behind Aragorn.  
  
"How do you . . . "  
  
"They crawled, their hands bound," Aragorn cut her off, skittering over the ground. He stopped, hands clawing in the dirt until they pulled a frayed cord from the dust. She felt a hope beginning to stir in her heart, following behind the man, Legolas right on her heels. She looked at the frayed cord, swallowing a lump in her throat as she thought on her friends, how scared they must have been.  
  
"Their bonds were cut," he continued, rising to his knees. "They ran, and were followed."  
  
Followed? She didn't like the sounds of that at all.  
  
"And they ran," he murmured, taking off into a light jog. "They ran straight into.."  
  
He stopped suddenly, causing the redhead following him to ram into him from behind. She gave a frustrated growl, coming to stand beside him. Legolas came to stand on her other side, mute as Aragorn as they stared shocked at the sight before them.  
  
"Fangorn Forest," came the breathless gasp from Gimli. Willow frowned, looking between her companions in confusion. Her eyes went back to the trees in front of her, not knowing really what the big deal was. It was a forest; they had one back in Sunnydale. Trees were generally not something to be feared.  
  
"What madness drove them in there?" Gimli continued to mutter in a horrified kind of voice.  
  
"It's just a forest," Willow frowned, looking between her companions expectantly. "Just a bunch of trees."  
  
"This forest is old," Legolas informed. "Very old, and very dangerous."  
  
"What? The trees are temper-mental?" Willow giggled.  
  
"Very much so," Aragorn answered seriously. "Or at least that is what the stories say. We would do well to get Merry and Pippin out of there quickly."  
  
Willow nodded, looking back up at the forest in question. Sure it looked creepy enough. The trees were tall and all tangled up in one another. Leaves and vines hung all over the place, the forest floor not dotted with even a speck of the sunlight from above. Yeah, it was creepy, but it was still just a forest. And staring at it wouldn't make it any less creepy or any more frightening. They had to move.  
  
She was the first to step forward, eyes warily trained on the treetops as she went forward. Legolas was right at her side, placing a hand on the small of her back as he followed her, his eyes peering deep into the forest for the slightest signs of danger.  
  
Only when she passed the first tree did she even begin to understand what the others had been talking about. She stepped right up beside it, and felt it. She felt the tree, felt its age, feelings, and its thoughts. It had thoughts!  
  
A gasp left her lips and the redhead back-pedaled at the last second. Legolas was quick to wrap her up in his arms and pull her a good distance from the woods. Aragorn and Gimli broke out into curses and murmurs of concern. But that was all secondary to her. Her eyes were still trained on the tree, on all of the trees. A slight groaning noise touched her ears as she stared and Willow just knew.  
  
The trees were talking.  
  
"Willow, are you all right?"  
  
Poor Elf sounded all frightened and worried. She nodded, slowly coming back to herself. She stepped lightly out of Legolas's arms, eyes never leaving the forest before her.  
  
"They're alive," she whispered faintly. "And they're pissed beyond imagination."  
  
"Willow?"  
  
This came from Gimli. The dwarf was glancing up at her in concern while shooting the forest dirty looks.  
  
"Is it dangerous?" the dwarf questioned. Willow nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat.  
  
"It's very dangerous in there," the redhead confirmed. "And our two friends are in there, defenceless."  
  
That got not only the dwarf worried, but the others as well. Willow squared her shoulders and marched forcefully back up to the forest, all the while calling over her shoulder.  
  
"Come on," she ordered. "I am not leaving Merry and Pippin in there by themselves. They might need our help."  
  
She heard them follow, hearing the mumbled question Gimli asked Aragorn.  
  
"But who will come to our aid should we come to danger in there?"  
  
She pretended not to hear but in her mind, she was agreeing with the dwarf. They get in trouble in there, they were screwed.  
  
*****  
  
"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep . . ."  
  
"Willow?"  
  
The redhead started, turning to see Legolas right behind her. She blushed, thinking over what she had said.  
  
"It's a poem," she shrugged. "Back home, by Robert Frost. I wished I could remember more of it, like the title. One of those things that bother me until the end of time."  
  
The Elf only smiled, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. She returned the squeeze, grateful for his presence. The woods were lovely, they were dark, and they sure as hell were deep too. But the trees were also scary as hell. The trees had emotions, thoughts, hell they had speech! She heard and felt it all, knowing the underlying menace of it all.  
  
Walking among them was fraying her nerves. She kept expecting a branch to lash out and attack one of them. In her mind's eyes she kept imagining the trees coming to life and chasing her and her companions through the woods. It was stupid really, but she couldn't help but be worried about it. The trees here, they weren't dormant. They were active, and remember what she said about them being pissed as hell?  
  
Gimli found something on a leaf, looking closely at it. He rubbed some of the substance on his fingers, then bringing it up to his tongue. His face screwed up in distaste and he spat viciously.  
  
"Orc blood," he informed them, face set in anger. Willow nodded, oddly wondering why on earth Gimli knew what Orc blood tasted like. And whether or not she really wanted to.  
  
"These trees are old," Legolas murmured, bringing her out of her thoughts. She went to seek him out, knowing he had run off somewhere. He was doing that a lot here, strangely at home in the woods of psycho trees. The Elf was trotting between the trees, eyes ever on the treetops.  
  
"There are much memory here," he continued, before turning to look Willow in the eye meaningfully.  
  
"And much anger."  
  
She only nodded, closing her eyes to feel the trees once more. She heard the same odd groaning as before. Her friends tensed, the sound of metal ringing letting her know they had drawn their weapons.  
  
"It's the trees," she informed them, eyes still closed as she listened to the ever increasing groaning of the trees. She kept perfectly still, trying to discern what they were saying. She heard Aragorn telling Gimli to lower his axe. She didn't have to look to see the dwarf was looking kind of sheepish. A small smile curved her lips at the thought, one that fled quickly.  
  
There was something in these woods, something other than the trees and their anger. There was magic here, it felt almost familiar in an odd sense.  
  
She opened her eyes, seeking Legolas immediately. She made her way quietly to the Elf's side, going to her tiptoes to whisper in his ears.  
  
"There's some magic in these woods," she whispered, so low that only the Elf could hear it. "I think it's following us."  
  
He nodded, clasping her hand in his own as he walked over to where Aragorn stood, searching the forest floor for any sign of their friends.  
  
Aragorn the Elf started, leaning in close to his companion. We are not alone.   
  
Willow motioned to Gimli with her hand, the dwarf complying silently. She idly wondered once more how she understood all the Elvish being said around her. It never ceased to amaze her the sheer grasp she had of the language, though she sure as hell couldn't speak it on her own. She had tried once. It had ended badly.  
  
Aragorn looked up from the ground, grimly nodding at Legolas's statement.  
  
"The White Wizard," he hissed through clenched teeth. Willow tensed, thoughts going immediately to Saruman. If that wizard was stupid enough to show his face anywhere near Willow, then all the better. She was going to hex him into oblivion, and do it with a smile on her face.  
  
She heard her companions shuffling ever so slightly, weapons being readied once more.  
  
"Do not let him speak," Aragorn advised everyone. "Or he will put a spell on you."  
  
She felt like snorting. Put a spell on her? The old man could sure as hell try, but it wouldn't do him any good. Probably would only make her angrier, which wasn't going to be good for the White Wizard.  
  
"Now!"  
  
She almost missed Aragorn's whispered command. The redhead turned with the others, sensing the power before she even saw the figure. But at the last second, she hung back, mind racing with the presence of the power. It was really, really familiar, but it wasn't Saruman. She knew enough by now to be able to distinguish that old fart's power.  
  
But her friends charged on, Legolas letting loose an arrow and Gimli swinging his axe. But as quick as lightning, the man hidden by the light of the sun, moved his staff to and fro, knocking the weapons aside before they could even reach him. Aragorn's sword began to sizzle and the man had to drop it lest his hand come to much damage.  
  
The figure stopped at that, staff going to rest at his side harmlessly. The redhead stepped forward, shielding her eyes from the bright glow shining about the man.  
  
"You came," he spoke before she could. "You came in search of two hobbits, did you not?"  
  
"Yeah," she affirmed, eyes squinting as they picked up the outline of long white hair and a long white beard. Saruman's trademarks no doubt, but again, it wasn't him.  
  
"Where are they?" she heard Aragorn demand. "They met someone they did not expect to meet," the white figure answered, a bit of amusement in his tone. "Does that help ease your mind?"  
  
"Who are you?" she demanded, stepping even closer to him. "Step out of that damn light!"  
  
There was no quirky comeback like she had been expecting. Instead, the figure complied, stepping out of the blinding light and into her line of vision. As he moved, he switched his white staff to the other hand, looking down at the four warriors with humour glinting in his eyes.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat and she stumbled back a step. Aragorn was the one to catch her, as awestruck as she was. Gimli and Legolas were bowing respectfully at their feet. But Willow couldn't make her legs work enough to either join them or even approach the figure again.  
  
"We saw you fall," Aragorn managed to croak, breaking the silence of the forest. "You fell . . ."  
  
"I did," came the confirmation. "Through fire and shadow. Until finally I cornered the beast on the last cliff top. I struck the monster down, the balrog falling to death over the cliff. And then I was spent, collapsing in the snow for what seemed like years. There, my mind began to drift, through space and time. Until finally, I was returned to myself, returned to my body. I was sent back to complete my mission. I come to you now, at the turn of the tide."  
  
Tears were spilling freely down her face at this point. She found her legs had recovered their strength and she ventured closer to the man before her.  
  
"Gandalf," she spoke in a tearful tone. The man started, turning wide grey eyes her way. A small smile broke out over his face as he looked at her.  
  
"Gandalf," he repeated, as if to himself. "Yes, that was my name. I was called Gandalf the Grey."  
  
She nodded, trying to swallow her tears as they came. The wizard smiled kindly at her, patting her cheek in a fatherly fashion.  
  
"I am Gandalf the White now," he confided in her. She giggled, rolling her eyes. Way to state the obvious.  
  
She threw her arms around his neck in the next second, hugging him fiercely. The wizard started, standing awkwardly for a second before letting out a few chuckles. His arms went around the redhead, patting her back and holding her close.  
  
"It is all right dear Lady Firelight," he murmured to her. "Everything will be all right, but we have things to do."  
  
She understood his not so subtle hint, releasing him and sparing him a grin.  
  
"You think I would be used to friends coming back from the dead by now," she laughed. "But it always gets me, time after time."  
  
He roared with laughter at that, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he stepped closer to their companions. Gimli came forward, clasping the wizard's hand in his own.  
  
"Gandalf," he choked out, tears in his eyes. Gandalf smiled at the dwarf, shaking his hand slightly and then turning to Legolas. The white wizard smiled, handing the still giddy Willow over to the Elf. She swore she saw him wink approvingly at the Elf.  
  
"Come," Gandalf ordered, clapping his hands together. "We have much to do. We must make for Edoras. Saruman's eye has turned on Rohan and the destruction of its people. We must stop him before the final stages of this war can even begin."  
  
And with that, he was walking swiftly through the trees, like the bombshell of his appearance hadn't stunned the hell out of the remaining Fellowship. Willow cleared her head and trotted after Gandalf.  
  
"The hobbits-" she started.  
  
"With a friend of mine," the wizard answered abruptly. "They are being kept safe, fear not my lady. You shall see them again, but perhaps not as soon as you would like."  
  
She stopped, waiting for the others to join her. She looked to Aragorn for some sort of guidance. The man only shrugged before trotting after Gandalf. Gimli followed him, muttering something about finally getting out of these god-forsaken woods.  
  
Legolas grasped her hand and tugged her along.  
  
"Gandalf said we will see them again," he told her. "And Gandalf keeps his word. Come then Willow, we have other things to attend to."  
  
The redhead nodded, jogging alongside her Elf. Her eyes went briefly deep into the forest as they left it, thinking over what Gandalf had said. She certainly hoped his friend kept her hobbits safe.  
  
Or there would be hell to pay.  
  
***** 


End file.
